Just Your Average Love Story
by 75cookies
Summary: From the moment Merlin laid eyes on Arthur Pendragon, he knew that he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Horror movie 'hey, let's go check out that strange noise coming from the basement' fucked.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Look, I'm not dead!**

 **Sorry this took so long (over a year! :( ) What originally started out as just a small little fic turned into another monster story. No one but me is surprised.**

 **So just a couple of things you should know before reading:**

 **1) This originally took place in England. Then I kinda sucked at that and said fuck it, it's in America now. The result is some sort of make believe place that is exactly the same as America except soccer is important and people are slightly British-y. Make of it what you will.**

 **2) I know I said I'd upload this all in one go, but I felt bad making you wait so long so there is a part two coming as soon as I proofread it.**

 **3) Sorry for any mistakes...**

 **4) Thanks to VamCX who beta'd some of this.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

From the moment Merlin laid eyes on Arthur Pendragon, he knew that he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Horror movie 'hey, let's go check out that strange noise coming from the basement!' fucked.

He was drop-dead gorgeous. Merlin watched him dismount from his motorcycle (fucking _motorcycle_ ) with his mouth slightly agape. The sun, still climbing the sky, shone directly behind his head, giving him this sort of heavenly halo of light, like some sort of angel. And with looks like that, it wasn't too much of a stretch, although 'just escaped a GQ photoshoot' might have been a tad more realistic.

Perfectly tailored jeans tightened over a well-toned ass as his leg swung up and over the bike, flipping his blonde hair back like he was the goddamn Little Mermaid himself, but minus the red hair and seashell bra. His leather jacket- no, go ahead, let that sink in- his _leather motorcycle jacket-_ did nothing to hide how fit this man was. The ridges of a six pack were _actually_ visible beneath his (thank heaven) tantalizingly thin shirt where the jacket was half unzipped.

How Merlin would have liked to unzip the rest of it.

Having dismounted, Arthur turned to greet his friends (all gorgeous as well, of course, as those type of people tend to run together, but none of them held a candle to _this_ Adonis) and Merlin got a blast of the most disarming smile known to man. A chiseled face that would turn lesbians straight, and the teeth of a fucking toothpaste ad to match.

Despite the frosty morning air, Merlin practically melted where he stood. He was _soo hot…_

But that's not what really got to him, in the end.

Unearthly, once in a life-time, unspeakable, indescribable beauty? Yeah, sure, take it or leave it, right? But somehow, someway, in the infinite realm of possibilities, Arthur Pendragon (though of course Merlin didn't actually learn his name until much later) caught _Merlin's_ eye.

Scrawny, messy-haired, living off 99¢ coffee, Merlin.

And if that wasn't already enough to vaporize one's insides to goo, his gaze perceptibly lingered, raking him over in interest, like he might be someone worth getting to know. And Merlin certainly wouldn't have minded getting to know _him_ a bit either. His gaze was so chilling it could have extinguished a candle.

Merlin shivered _._

Then he was gone, pushing through the front doors of the school with his flock of ridiculously gorgeous lackeys.

'He's probably an asshole.' thought Merlin, as he downed the remains of his coffee, even though it was burnt. That's what you get when you pay 99¢ for coffee.

He looked back down at the school map that had been momentarily forgotten in his hands. He'd been meaning to look at it all break, but been too lazy to pull it out. That would have meant acknowledging the last few dwindling summer days of his high school career, something he was rather reluctant to do. Now regretting his procrastination, he skated over it in a panic, trying to find all the classes listed on his roster, his heart still racing.

He was leaning back against his his own beat-up Honda, that was, no joke, older than he, himself. It was only by luck and several midnight satanic offerings that it was still running. It just had to get him through this last year…

He heard an annoyingly shrill bell ringing, and his heart leapt into his throat.

A Fucking _motorcycle._

He _hated_ the first day of school.

888

Despite his own cynical expectations, Merlin has to admit that by the time he reached lunch, things were going pretty smoothly, if a bit lonely.

Friends were always greeting friends in the hallways, catching up on their summers, discussing the new year and new teachers, filling each other in on the latest gossip. Nobody had any time or desire to adopt a new kid into their cliques. But he didn't mind too much. They were seniors. Was it really worth it to make new friends for just nine months of school?

He'd been late to English, having a bit of difficulty signing in (what was the point, he'd like to know, of having an Admissionsoffice, an Auxiliary office, _and_ a main office, all of which, he'd like to point out, were labeled 'Lobby Office' on the oh-so-helpful school map) and getting all the 'new student' paperwork and rigamarole out of the way. "We're so pleased you'll be joining us here at Camelot High this year, a prestigious school for young achievers like yourself. We ask that if you have any questions or concerns… blah blah blah…" The only concern he'd had was who was in charge of labeling the goddamn maps, because he'd like to have a few words with them.

Then of course the professor had made him stand up in front of the class and introduce himself (the dick) and he'd stuttered over the pronunciation of his own name, like an idiot.

It wasn't until he'd sat down at his desk, face burning like a 'look at me' beacon (because he wasn't singled out enough already) that he'd noticed the hottie from the parking lot two desks away, looking at him with an amused expression that made Merlin's body tingle. He looked away quickly, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone else for the remainder of the class.

But it had been smooth sailing since that little incident. He hadn't been late again, and none of the class material seemed like it was going to be overly difficult. It even looked like he was a bit ahead in math, though to be fair that had always been his subject. And it hadn't escaped his notice that math was the second class he shared with Mr. I-ride-a-Harley-Pendragon (who he managed to _not_ stare at. So. Score one for him).

Yes, Merlin had managed to learn Arthur's name. Not because he'd listened to the roll call or eavesdropped on his conversations (not for lack of trying), but because it was rather difficult to escape his 'come hither' gaze due to the fact that his face was plastered all over the hallways.

Literally.

Posters littered the corridors like the educational decrees in _Harry Potter_ , and Arthur's face loomed down from all of them, his name splashed across it in what Merlin supposed was meant to be an encouraging font.

 _Team Captain: Arthur Pendragon. For the Love of Camelot!_

It featured Arthur looking wonderfully disheveled, soccer ball stowed under one arm.

Later, he'd see if he could sneak one home. Or was that crossing the line, right there? He was _seriously_ gorgeous. Merlin reasoned that any self-respecting gay man would do the same without shame. But then again he supposed it might be awkward to jack off to a fantasy featuring Arthur Pendragon, then come to school and do calculous right behind his stylized blond head.

"Hello!" There was a friendly voice in his ear, and Merlin was pulled from his reverie. He couldn't help starting, a dusting of blush coating his cheeks. He was embarrassed to have been caught in the middle of his hedonistic thoughts, like there was a floating thought bubble above his head, projecting his dirty mind to the world.

"Sorry to be a bother," Before him was a mocha-skinned girl, all curves and curls, smiling with a cheeriness that would make Santa's helpers puke with envy. "Only it's that you're new, aren't you?"

Merlin was rather caught off guard. Not knowing, well, anyone, he'd picked a seat in an empty corner expecting to be ignored. "I- um. Yes. How do you…?"

"English," she said in an apologetic tone, "Was that professor a dick, or what?"

And that was the moment that Merlin decided this was an amazing woman.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" She asked, oblivious to the impact she'd made on him, "Only, I'm new too, so I don't have anyone else to sit with… Gwen." She stuck out a purple-nail-polished hand, which Merlin shook.

"So what's your story then?" Merlin wanted to know, after patting the empty seat next to him.

"My story? How do you mean?" she asked, not unkindly, as she settled herself down.

"Well, just nobody transfers schools senior year without a good reason, you know?"

"As it happens, I do have one. My brother's leaving to England to study at Oxford next year. Our parents are divorced: I live with mom and he lives with dad, and we hardly ever get to see each other. I thought I'd come here, you know, so we could spend time together before he moves a million miles away."

"That's quite nice of you to switch schools for him." Merlin remarked, impressed.

"Family's important," she smiled, "We were so close when we were younger, but we just drifted after the divorce, you know… I'd like to be close again."

"Who's your brother?"

"Elyan. He's on the soccer team. You might see him on some of those team posters… rather dramatic, for a sports game, don't you think, all those posters? Men and sports… I don't get it. So do you have one, then?"

"Nope, only child. Spoiled rotten with mom's attention, I was."

Gwen laughed. "No, a good reason for transferring."

"Oh." Merlin picked at the scarred tabletop, running his fingers over a heart with N.W. and F.T. carved in it. "There were some, ah, issues at my old school."

Gwen, bless her, didn't press.

"So your brother plays soccer? Think he can introduce me to Arthur?"

Gwen eyed him dubiously, "Why, do you want to get on the team?"

"No, I want to get in his pants."

It sent the two of them into giggling hysterics, like freshmen in health class.

"He _is_ handsome, though," Gwen sighed wistfully, once the laughter died down, looking off past Merlin's head.

"Handsome doesn't cover it," Merlin agreed.

"He's nice too, not to mention loaded…"

"Wait, you've _met_ him?"

"Once or twice, when I was round visiting Elyan. It'll be a lucky girl who get's him, no doubt."

"Oh no, I bet he's got this big, giant flaw. He rides a Harley for godsakes, he's got to be compensating for something. I bet he's got a tiny dick."

Gwen smothered her giggles into her palm. "No, no, I bet he's got a horrible inferiority complex…"

Several long minutes were devoted to discussing what this glaring flaw could be. Some, quite a bit more believable than others. Their growing list of 'What Probably Made Arthur Pendragon a Terrible Person' included everything from neediness and daddy issues, to extremely long body hair that he liked to braid with ribbons, and vampirism.

"I have to tell you, Merlin, you're the first person all day that I've been able to talk to... everyone here is so intimidating! I mean did you see some of the cars in the parking lot? What high schooler needs a brand new Lexus? Oh!" she slapped a hand to her mouth, "Only, I shouldn't have said. You probably drive something really nice, don't you? You probably think I'm terrible!"

Merlin laughed, and explained about his own dinosaur of a car, telling her about all the times he'd stalled out in traffic, until the pair were out of breath from laughter. The fact was that Camelot High really was a prestigious as all the pamphlets advertised. To get in, you were either really smart, or really rich. Preferably both.

And Merlin was definitely not rich. Not that he was starving, though one might think so by looking at him.

Gwen ended the period by scribbling her phone number down on a scrap of paper, and giving him a giant hug. "I'm so glad I met you!" she squealed, waving at him as the bell rang.

And in turn, Merlin was quite glad to have made at least one friend.

888

"I don't know, Gwen, it's not really my thing..."

"C'mon, Merlin! It'll be fun, you'll love it. Plus, you can meet Morgana!"

Gwen was beautiful. Gwen was bubbly. Gwen made friends very, very easily... unlike Merlin, who was shy and awkward and uncomfortable in his own body. She'd formed a close friendship with a girl named Morgana, whom Merlin had been hearing about endlessly (with _almost_ no jealousy, thank you very much). Apparently, Morgana and Merlin were going to 'get on fabulously' as Gwen had said, numerous times.

If he was to believe the profuse amount of information that was being spouted, Morgana just as beautiful as Gwen. Merlin doubted this. He tended to think his friends were the most beautiful, most athletic, most intelligent… etc. His mother said it was because he was fiercely loyal. She said he inherited this trait from his father. Merlin found this hilarious, but he supposed it _was_ true. His father _had_ been incredibly loyal… to the woman he left Merlin's mother for.

"Merlin." Gwen was still on his case. "You _have_ to come. Morgana invited me and all her friends going, and if you don't go I won't know anyone.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Gwen. You'll know Morgana." Merlin offered sheepishly. He just didn't fancy spending his Friday night in a dark house filled with drunk teenage strangers. He much preferred his solitude. Besides, he was at a _very_ good point in his book. "Don't you think it was unfair of Mr. Aradian to give us so much homework? I mean it's only the third week."

"Yes, and don't change the subject, Merlin." She was determined, and seeing as they were at lunch, he had no choice but to sit here and listen. "Merlin, please! I _personally_ guarantee that you will have a good time. And if you still want to leave after an hour, we can, I _swear._ Please, please pleeeeease come with me?"

That was the other thing about Gwen. Her natural enthusiasm made her seem so trustworthy, so believable. It made it very difficult to say no to her, something that Merlin, admittedly, wasn't good at in the first place.

He sighed, _knowing_ that he was about to give in, and _knowing_ he was going to regret it.

"Alright, alright," he relented, "I'll go. Just for a bit."

Gwen squealed.

888

He hated being right sometimes. It was a terrible burden, really, just knowing everything all the time.

Before they had even parked, Merlin knew he had made a horrible mistake. And he didn't hesitate to relay this information to Gwen.

"Oh, you have not made a horrible mistake," She waved him off as she pulled out her keys. "And besides, how would you know that yet, you've only just _gotten_ here."

"Gwen, there is a drunk guy over there vomiting into the azaleas."

She had the grace, at least, to cringe. "He's not drunk, he just hates the decor."

Merlin looked at the facade of the Bruce Wayne style mansion and wondered how many starving children and Africa they could have fed with the all the money that had been funneled into it. A full front garden, wrap-around balcony, _five_ chimneys, and a dragon fountain that spewed water instead of fire.

"Gwen," Merlin said, exasperated.

"Okay, okay, so he started the party a little early. Not everyone is going to be drunk, I promise."

Merlin gave an insurmountable sigh, looking up at the house in dismay, and wished he had his laptop so he could just stay in the car…

"One hour." Gwen reminded him, popping open her door. "One hour, and then if you hate it, we leave. You can do it!"

"Yeah," Merlin said, but with no where near the same amount of enthusiasm as they started up the walk. "Well I didn't know your friend was _loaded_."

"Yeah, apparently her dad owns a huge company or something."

Merlin only grunted in response.

Their first hurdle of the party began as soon as they reached the door. Were they supposed to knock? Or just walk in? They didn't want to be rude, but music was already pounding inside, punctuated by yells and squeals of what Merlin supposed was joy, but sounded more to his ear like regret. Or boredom.

"Listen," he pointed out as Gwen's hand hovered questioningly over a dragon-shaped door knocker (to go with the fountain, he guessed). "They hate it so much they're screaming."

Her answer was distracted. "Come on, Merlin, you have to at least _try_ to have fun. Now do you think we're supposed to-?"

Luckily they were saved from deciding. The door swung wide open and a woman appeared, wearing black hair messily styled into sexy waves that curled around her shoulders, and a slinky green dress that ended mid-thigh.

"Gwen!" She- Morgana, Merlin figured- bounded forward in a burst of Versace perfume. Not that Merlin would know what that smelled like, but she seemed like a Versace kind of girl to him.

Morgana threw her arms around Gwen. "I'm so glad you could make it! I thought I saw your car pull up. Come in, come in! And you must be Merlin!"

Emerald green eyes turned to him, and Merlin had a feeling like he was being scrutinized. "It's so nice to meet you, I've heard a lot."

"Oh. Erm. Hello," was Merlin's brilliant response.

Morgana smiled anyway, in a friendly, happy sort of way, and some of Merlin's reservations about her crumbled.

She held the door open wide, shaking her glossy hair behind her thin shoulders. "Come in, come in! Let's get you drinks!"

She was already straining to be heard over the combination of over-excited teenage voices and pounding music, and she was practically outside. Merlin's heart sank.

He tried not to gawk as he stepped into the entryway. It was a bit like stepping into a Palace, or so he imagined. This tastefully decorated foyer that could have made Martha Stewart cry could fit his entire bedroom and had room to spare. He was almost afraid to see the rest of the house. A fancy family crest was emboldened in gold on the wall to his right, one that also encompassed a dragon. Merlin was beginning to wonder if it was some sort of weird fetish. Anyway, who still had family crests?

But he didn't have time to admire it for long; because even in the (in Merlin's opinion) absurd amount of space available, the room was _packed_ with people. It was like a continual dance, trying to avoid everyone else who navigated the room, trying to mold himself into the empty spaces between bodies.

And as he'd always expected, he had two left feet because he was doing this dance terribly. No one had shown him the steps and now he was fumbling around like the fool he very much suspected everyone thought he was. In fact, he'd already been jostled three times in the few seconds he'd been standing there. And to think his laptop was home sitting on his bed, just waiting for his return… What was he doing here again?

No time to ponder it. Morgana had taken Gwen's hand and she in turn had taken his, and together the three of them chugged through the room in exactly as weird a manner as one could picture. As he approached the doorway to the kitchen, Merlin turned his body round and tilted his head, wanting to get one last look at the gleaming golden flourishes of the crest.

It was a mistake.

 _Wham!_ Something hard and solid jammed into the side of his face, next to his left eye. No doubt it was only a wayward elbow, but it felt like a baseball. Or a cannonball, if you're feeling dramatic.

He cursed loudly, his free hand flying cradle his eye socket, head bowing into a defensive position. His left eye sight switched to black before fading back to color, and for a crazy moment Merlin hoped his eye hadn't been permanently damaged (even though he knew it hadn't). The sound of his profanity, luckily or unluckily, depending on who you ask, was lost in the din of the crowd, and his injury didn't stop him from being dragged forward.

Morgana wasn't shy about moving people out of her way, and soon enough she had let go of Gwen and was rummaging through beautiful mahogany- oak- cherry cabinets (okay, Merlin had no idea what the stupid cabinets were made of. But they looked expensive- like a picture fresh out of Richer Than You Quarterly).

"I kept the good stuff in here," she confided as she began pouring colorful liquids from official looking bottles. Merlin did not tell her that she could have gave him chilled donkey piss, told him it was hard lemonade, and he wouldn't have known the difference. "I mean they can get plastered just as easily on Burnette's."

He hadn't been planning on drinking tonight, but as Morgana handed over the red cup he thought he might need some alcohol after all.

"Shit," she laughed, clearly feeling a buzz already. "Did somebody catch your eye?"

For some crazy reason, his thoughts turned to Arthur, and he blushed. He'd certainly caught Merlin's eye. Was he here tonight? He could look all night and never find out for sure, the crowd in this place.

"Uh, yeah." he said, still fingering the side of his face gently.

"It's all red," Gwen said, concerned, "Are you okay? It looks a bit swollen."

"M'fine," He mumbles, mostly because he knows how disappointed Gwen would be if they left now. Instead, it takes a deep slug of the cup in his hand. He tries not to let them know how gross he really thought it was, but it must have shown on his face because Morgana started laughing right away.

"You'll get used to it," she said, not unkindly, though why anyone would want to drink something gross until they didn't think it was gross anymore was beyond him.

"What is it?" He asked hesitantly.

"Old family recipe." She winked at him. This did nothing to calm his nerves.

"I just can't believe I'm finally getting to see the inside of the infamous Pendragon estate!" Gwen was gushing over her drink.

Merlin, who had been sourly inspecting his contents of his own cup and imaging some gruesome ingredients (Rare poisons? Orphan tears?), looked up in astonishment.

"You _have_ to show me your room …"

"Wait, what?" He interjected, "Pendragon- !?"

Morgana rolled her eyes in a display of mock annoyance. She was obviously used to this. "Yes, my father is Uther Pendragon, 'Illustrious,'" and she really used air quotes, "founder, owner, and board member of- "

"No, not that!" Though it did explain the ridiculous amount of money it no doubt took to build this house. ...And all the dragons. "Pendragon… Are you related to Arthur Pendragon?" He couldn't imagine it was a very common name.

"Arthur Pendragon? You mean the King of Camelot?" She laughed, and one hand smoothed down the side of her dress. "Who came up with that stupid name anyway? He's my brother. Well, half-brother. But you know how it goes."

Merlin didn't. He blinked, still trying to digest this information. "And- and you're in the same grade…?"

"Indeed. Our closeness in age is a testament to how our _wonderful_ father just couldn't keep it in his pants."

Arthur Pendragon, athletic, beautiful, wonder-boy extraordinaire, lived _here._ He'd probably stood right where Merlin was standing. One minute Merlin thought that he'd have to see what he could do about getting a peek into his room. The next he wrote himself off, blushing, as a dumb schoolgirl with a crush.

"Sorry," Gwen said, turning to face him, an honest look of contrition placed on her face, "didn't I mention…?"

Morgana spoke for him. "Don't be sorry, Gwen. My brother's not worth mentioning. He's a gigantic dick. Oh! Speaking of gigantic dicks, there's someone I want you to meet. C'mon."

She pushed off the counter and took Gwen's hand, leading her through the party-goers. Merlin panicked briefly, wondering if he was supposed to follow, for she hadn't said either way, but they'd already been swallowed by the crowd.

Sighing, he took a swig of the bitter liquid and tried not to make a face. They'd been there ten minutes. Fifty more to go.

He was very tempted to seek out Gwen in the time that followed, but (courageously) he didn't. He didn't want to seem needy or clingy, or interrupt what no doubt was actual fun for her. So he bided his time in other ways.

First, he explored. This was a task that could have ordinarily taken him a leisurely hour or so. However, during parties, the rules are slightly different. Some rooms were too crowded to be able to fully appreciate- Merlin tried to avoid these. Some rooms had… _amorous_ couples in them. These were also avoided. And some doors were just plain locked- apparently to keep out overly-curious hooligans like him.

As he wandered he admired the various forms of art that adorned the hallways like patterns on butterfly wings. Actually, that was a bit over-dramatic. It was more like self-applied make-up caked on a six year old. Truthfully, Merlin only tried to admire them in the beginning. After a few strenuous minutes, he stopped that and started rating them on a scale of 'Absurdly Ridiculous' (A watercolor of a naked woman with various pastry items fixed over her privates and a donut-halo around her head) to 'Crazy Batshit Insane' (A sculpture of a goat with a snake tongue and human arms instead of legs).

After he put them in a satisfying order, he hung out in the darker corners of rooms, watching the dancing get crazier as the people got drunker. His eye was still a bit tender. Every time he blinked it stung a little more. Once a girl came along and started talking to him, looking for a bit of action. She kept going on and on about how she just didn't want the night to end until she'd been buggered by a proper man. Once Merlin said he couldn't agree with her more, she left him alone.

After forty-five painful minutes had chugged by he decided it was as a reasonable time as any to find Gwen and demand she uphold her end of the bargain by letting them make their timely departure. He found her quickly enough. She was out on the back patio (where Merlin had avoided due to 1) horrible bugs and 2) even more horrible people). She was talking to Morgana and tall, dark-haired, tan, muscular guy. Honestly, Merlin had to take a second to appreciate her taste in men.

"Merlin!" Her face let up as she saw him approach, "I'm so glad you're here! This is Lancelot."

The stupidly handsome man stuck out a hand. "Hello, Merlin. You look like you took a nasty hit there." He had just a hint of an accent. It could have turned snow to rain.

"Uh. Yeah… thanks. Hello," he managed before turning to Gwen. "It's been forty-five minutes," he said, in his politest can-we-get-the-fuck-out-of-here voice.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Has it? Oh my goodness, I can't believe it. I've just been having such a good time…" Her cup, Merlin noticed as she was busy making eyes at Lancelot over there, had been refilled.

"Have you?" He asked weakly, because there really wasn't any way to respond to that besides 'Too bad, let's go anyway.'

"Yes, it's just been a blast! You don't mind if we stay a bit longer, do you? I mean, you're having a good time too, right?"

Oh, shit. His stomach plummeted. He knew this was going to happen. Now if he insisted upon going home he'd look like a huge arse. Not to mention, he'd be ruining her chances with tall-dark-and-handsome.

He forced a smile. "Yeah! Course!" He hoped that sounded convincing.

Morgana produced a cup out of nowhere. "Drink up," she insisted, "the night is young." It's not her 'secret recipe' but it tastes just as gross to Merlin.

He downed it in one. They all stayed in their little group, chatting. Lance talked about football tryouts and how badly he wanted to get on the team. Gwen talked about moving here, about her parent's divorce. Lance talked about the scholarship he hoped to attain. Morgana chimed in with a witty anecdote about a family friend who worked in Yale's admittance office. Merlin tried not to think about how much his eye was aching. Gwen mentioned her dog who'd tragically been put down, Lance brought up the earthquake in Uganda. Morgana laughed about their over-demanding biology teacher. Merlin stood there, feeling useless.

After a while he excused himself, on the pretence of finding a bathroom. Really he just wanted to get away from feeling so excluded. He knew he was being silly. After all, he'd been part of their little circle, hadn't he? He didn't know why he felt so alone at the moment he'd never been more surrounded.

He _did_ find a bathroom, though he only intended to use it to waste a few minutes. He wasn't really upset when the door he'd opened slammed back in his face ("Oi! I'm trying to get some head in here!") until he realized he should probably find a mirror and check out his eye. It really was rather painful, and he wanted to check it for a bruise.

He made a pit stop at the kitchen. His head was feeling a tad fuzzy, but he wasn't sure if it was from the drink or from the hit on the head. Never the less, He poured himself another liberal amount. He needed it, he reasoned, for being so damn generous. It was only when his cup was emptied he remembered his earlier thought to snoop around Arthur's room. Well, not _snoop_ exactly. He just wanted to _see_ it. It didn't seem like such a dumb idea anymore, so he topped himself off before finding some stairs.

The door to what he assumed was the master bedroom was locked. This was just as well, he figured there was no end to the shenanigans one could get up to in there. There were five more doors. Directly to his left was a cozy, empty bedroom, clearly long unused. It could be a guest room, but it also occurred to Merlin that Arthur could just be a germaphobe. The next door on his right was locked. Merlin frowned, figuring he'd found it, only Arthur had sense enough to try and keep creepy stalkers like him out. The next door he passed had retching sounds coming from it. Just walking by, Merlin could smell the sickly sweet scent of vomit. Nose, wrinkling, he approached the last door at the end of the hall.

He realized it just in time. Hand on the knob, he heard a tight gasp, and whirled around, thinking he'd been caught snooping. But no one was there. He listened, paranoid he was being watched. Then it came to him: a rhythmic, bouncing and squeaking of mattress springs, and the accompanying groans that made Merlin's hand fly from the knob. He was lucky he hadn't walked in on it. It looked like he'd found Arthur's room after all. There was no doubt he was in there, having his way with that panty-gaspy-groany woman. Probably with huge boobs.

Merlin only gave himself a moment of remorse. He'd known it was coming anyway, it was silly to feel upset about it.

Back downstairs, away from Arthur's sex-capades, Merlin re-emerged to a world of loud, unintelligible, pulsing music, and found it twice as loud as when he'd first left. The throbbing seemed to vibrate the very air around him, and his eye was pounding with him. It had to be bruised. Was it possible it was broken? Surely it would be hurting more, if that was the case? Maybe it was fractured. Could one fracture their eye? Eye socket? His vision was just as good… He thought if he could just get some ice for it, it'd feel much better.

He headed back to the kitchen. It's gotten more difficult to navigate, however. The alcohol seemed to finally be getting to him. His body feels… different. Not bad different, but… heavy. Like he's been lying down for a very, very long time. He's unsteady heading to the kitchen, but manages not to stumble. His empty cup isn't in his hand, but he doesn't remember where he put it down.

Other people seem worse off than him, he sees one or two holding onto the wall to keep upright. He thinks he's doing rather well in comparison. Only, now that there are wobbly cars on both sides of the road, so to speak, he bumped into a fair amount of people, and his delicate head was jostled painfully.

The kitchen was much too bright, as it's the only room with all it's lights on, so people can get their drinks without spilling. Though with the condition most were in now, he was sure there was plenty of that happening anyway.

Squinting, he finally got over to the freezer, and forgot to be shy about plunging his hand in a stranger's ice tray. He grabbed a handful of the cubes, not even bothered by the brittle temperature. He clapped them straight onto his steaming eye888 perhaps a bit harder than he'd meant to.

With a great gasping of air, a shock went through him like a live wire, starting at his head and shooting down his arms and into his stomach. His hand flew up in surprise, and the ice hit the floor and scattered like translucent little cockroaches.

They laughed, of course, as teenagers do. Well, they chuckled. There was one distinctive scoff, at the very least. Merlin's face burned like an ember. An assehole in a red v-neck had the audacity to point as he chuckled drunkenly, gaze unfocused. Skin burning, Merlin backed up instinctively, very much intending to turn and leave.

He walks into something hard and cool, sticking itself into his side like a metal fist. He grabs it, turns, and got the hell out of there.

He's in the garage. He knows this before anything else, mostly due to the change in temperature. It's colder here, without the heat of hundreds of sweaty bodies around. Though perhaps his biggest clue was the wire rack to his right. It was full of empty flower pots,cans of paint, mousetraps and other standard garage-type equipment.

Merlin leaned his head against the door and let out a tense breath. The music here was much quieter- a deadened pulse, like listening to a heartbeat. Without all those people around, those eyes brushing against him. Without the sweaty humidity or the impossible noise, he could finally feel his body relax from its stressed state. His eyes closed, tiredly. He would wait here, then, hide out until it was time to go. This was so much better… he could breathe so much easier…

"Oi!" He jumped about a foot in the air, his heart doing a drum solo in his chest. He thought he'd been alone. Shit, he should have known by the way the lights were on…

He turned around. Apparently he wasn't the only one with bright ideas about hiding out.

Behind him was- wait. First you have to know this: Merlin doesn't care much for cars. He has no idea how the inside of an engine works, and he couldn't tell a Ford from a Lincoln. But this car? It was straight up sexy. It was like something clicked in his brain and he could finally understand why some guys were so obsessed with them. It was a cherry red convertible, gleaming like a new engagement ring.

Its top was down, giving Merlin a peek at black leather seats. It felt a bit like looking down a girls shirt. Except, if he was straight. Okay, he'd had too much to drink.

Sitting- no, lounging- in the backseat (and looking quite as sexy as the car itself) was Arthur Pendragon. Merlin had to blink three times to make sure he was seeing things right, as he was pretty sure he'd just heard the guy upstairs giving it out good.

To the right of the convertible was another car, but it was covered so he couldn't see it (though even if he had, he wouldn't have known the make). To its left was Arthur's motorcycle. Beyond that, leaning against the wall, sat a boy with red-ish curly hair. But he was not the one who spoke. (judging by the way his chest rose and fell steadily, and by his head which was tilted to the side with his eyes closed).

"Oi! What are you doing? You can't be- ! Oh. It's you."

Him? How did Arthur even know him? Merlin pointed to himself rather stupidly, as if there could be someone behind him. Arthur chuckled dully.

"Yeah, you, you idiot."

He frowned. "I didn't know you knew me."

"Course." Arthur waved his hand around. "You're the new kid with the ridiculous name."

"Um. Thanks. Yeah. Merlin, that's me"

"Could be worse. You could have been Albert. Or… or hell, you could have been fucking Uther. That's one thing I'll be glad _not_ to inherit…"

He had a point. But Merlin was not entirely sure how he was supposed to respond to this. "Uh. Rrrright. I, uh, how exactly is it that you know me?" They'd never been introduced, _that_ much he was sure of.

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "We have, um, that class know..."

"Math?"

"And the other one."

"English?"

"Yeah," Arthur laughed again, his hand rubbing up and down his jean-clad leg, "And he made you stand in front of the class and introduce yourself, and you couldn't say your name right?" He puts on a high pitched voice that Merlin guessed was supposed to be him, "I'm Mer- Merlin, from Eald- Ealdor? Hah, your face was bright red…"

Much like it was now, no doubt. Merlin scowled. He thought it was unfair that he could be such an asshole and still look good. "Alright," he said, turning to go back inside (he prefered a hundred drunk people ignoring him to one asshole paying attention) "You don't have to be such a dick about it…"

"Dick? No!" Arthur honest to God looked hurt, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It was cute."

Oh. It turns out his face _could_ get redder. "I- um- oh."

Arthur's head lolled slightly. "I'm drunk." he announced.

"Right."

He patted the leather seat next to him. "Come siddown."

Legs like jelly, Merlin did. It was like he was inexplicably pulled toward this blonde, motorcycle-riding boy. Or, shit, maybe he was just drunk. Either way, he was hot, and he had called Merlin cute. Seemed as good a reason as any.

The leather was smooth against his jeans as he slid into place, careful not to scratch it. As he came closer Arthur blinked, trying to focus. "Merlin," He said, leaning forward and frowning in concern, "your eye."

"Oh. Yeah. I ah, had a disagreement with an elbow there," Merlin chuckled, not because his joke was very funny, but because it seemed the thing to do.

Arthur, however, did not laugh (which was odd considering how drunk he was). "Let me see." He leaned in close and Merlin tries not to whimper. He was so beautiful. Even drunk off his ass. He expected rough hands, but when they touched his chin they were soft and gentle. Merlin bit his lip.

"Mmm…" Arthur hummed as he turns Merlin's chin. "Must have been some disagreement…" His hand reached out gently, brushing over the tender area with his thumb. Merlin tried not to wince, but Arthur's suddenly shrewd eyes seem to have seen anyway. He pulled back. "It's beginning to get pretty dark in color."

"Is it? I haven't been able to find a mirror."

Grunting, Arthur dug into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone (Merlin was _smart_ enough without a smartphone. At least that's what his mum said, not that he'd ever asked for one. He was _smart_ enough not to, after all).

"Here," and before Merlin could protest, he'd snapped a picture and turned it round to show Merlin.

"Oh," he took it. His left eye was indeed puffy and swollen, a bruise seeping out from his socket and oozing out an inch or two. It was darker closer in, but faded near the edges. "Wow. I've never had a black eye before… do you think it makes me look rather dangerous?" He struck up a sort of 'Don't mess with me' face.

Arthur chortled. "You look about as dangerous as a kitten. I've had one before. Don't worry. This time tomorrow?" He leaned back against the seat, hands behind his head like he owned the - oh, right. "It won't hurt half as much. What you need is peas."

"Peas?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, glancing at him with startling blue eyes. (Had they been a paint color, they'd be called 'Surprise! Blue' or something like 'Absurdly attractive blue'... Merlin made a mental note to devote more effort to this). "Frozen peas. For your eye. You need to ice it."

"Yeah…" Merlin decided not to say he'd tried that already. He turned toward Arthur on the bench, leaning one arm atop the back of it. "To be honest, I didn't think I'd see you here."

"Why's that?" Arthur asked, looking legitimately interested as his gaze turned onto him.

"Well, a moment ago I heard someone have some pretty loud sex in your bedroom. I assumed it was you."

Arthur sat straight up. "Gwaine!" He growled, "That fucker!" He turned toward the wall. "You hear that, Leon?"

The man that Merlin had assumed was asleep grunted in acknowledgment. "'E tolja he would, Art…" He mumbled sleepily, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"Don't call me that." Arthur grumbled, settling back down, "And I didn't believe him."

Merlin winced. "May want to wash those sheets before you sleep tonight, mate."

"Burn it, s'more like, who knows where that son of a bitch's dick has been…" He slammed a fist into his other hand. "I'm going to have to get him back for this."

Merlin hummed in affirmation. An awkward silence fell. Merlin cast around for something to say as Arthur's eyes slid lazily shut like he had forgotten Merlin was there at all. He wanted Arthur to find him cool, sophisticated, interesting.

"Soccer," was what he came up with. "what- what position do you play?"

Just as he'd hoped, Arthur immediately perked up, turning his torso toward Merlin. "Center forward. Do you play?"

"A bit." Not even a little.

Arthur grinned, "You should try out for the team! Tryouts are next Friday!"

"Oh, um," Merlin scratched the back of his head, "No, it's more- it's more of a hobby…? I'm not, um, that good at it."

"What do you play?"

"Soccer…?"

Arthur laughs loudly. "You're drunk too." he says, though Merlin doesn't think so. At least, not really that much. "No, the position."

"Oh. Uh. Goalie." It's the only position he knew, really.

"That's too bad. We've already got a great goalie. Percy. The guy's built like a house. Nothing gets past him. You could maybe be a sub though."

"Yeah," Merlin had no intention of becoming a sub. Athletic or otherwise.

"Leon over there is on the team too. Wing-back. You and me… we'll kick the ball around sometime!" Arthur goes on, making wild hand gestures. "It'll be fun."

Merlin tugged at his ear. As nice as it would be to spend time with Arthur, that would kinda ruin his 'I know how to play soccer' lie. "Uhh. I dunno… like I said, it's more of… more of a hobby… and you're team captain and everything…"

Arthur grinned, clearly proud of this fact. "I'll take it easy on you, no worries." He pushed Merlin's shoulder playfully. "I know how to be gentle."

For a minute, he just stopped, his hand slowly falling from Merlin's arm, the grin melting slowly from his face as he stared at Merlin.

Merlin's heart picks up. "What?" He asked.

"Merlin… you're very pretty." Merlin blushed, his skin hot. This again? What was he getting at?

"Um. Thanks." he mumbled, looking away.

Arthur grabbed his chin. Pulled him back. Merlin was simultaneously scared and aroused. He blinked rapidly.

"Are you gay, Merlin?" A cold ball coagulated in the center of Merlin's stomach. Was this why Arthur had brought him over here? To make fun of him? Expose him? He set his jaw, crossed his arms.

"I don't see how that's- "

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Merlin's brain seemed to have gone off-line. "You're- you're just drunk." He shook his head, scooted away until he was against the door. He could literally feel his heart beating in his chest.

Arthur doesn't laugh, but scooted in closer to Merlin. "Yeah. But I still wanna kiss you."

"Don't make fun of me."

"Does it look like I'm laughing right now?" He did seem pretty fucking serious. There was no hint of amusement in his face. Arousal? That was a different story.

Merlin didn't answer. What exactly was one supposed to say in this scenario, anyway?

Arthur closed in. He was right in front of Merlin, filling up his vision, breathing in his air. Arthur's eyes darted from Merlin's to his lips. Merlin was torn. He knew he should stop him. But he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I'm not gay." Is the last thing Arthur whispered before his head swung down at an angle. Before Merlin can protest that maybe he's a little gayer than advertised, their lips collide.

He felt electrified; from the moment Arthur's soft mouth presses down on his. It was like he'd lived his whole life underwater and was just now breaking the surface and breathing for the first time.

For someone who looked so tough and intimidating, he was an awfully gentle kisser. His hand, slightly sweaty, held Merlin's cheek as his lips trapped Merlin's lower one, sucking on it softly, just a hint of teeth.

Merlin grunted his approval, his hands wrapping around a slim waist. Nervous excitement and adrenaline rushed through him. His head tipped backward and Arthur's eager mouth followed it, settling himself between Merlin's legs.

Vaguely, Merlin thought of the boy sitting against the wall. Was he awake? He wasn't watching, was he? Merlin couldn't hear any noises that indicated anything on way or the other. He pushed the thought away.

Arthur's tongue probed along Merlin's lips, not shy, but not pressing. Merlin opened. The taste of him was bitter, no doubt like the beer that he had been drinking, but Merlin didn't mind terribly. He sighed contentedly, and Arthur seemed to be encouraged, sliding his tongue against Merlin's. He was firm, unyielding, toying with Merlin's body in the best of ways. He took what he wanted, but never took too much.

Merlin's hands slid under the fabric of Arthur's shirt. Shit, he was so fit. He could feel muscles bunching underneath his hands and he loved the feel of them. He gasped, and Arthur took the opportunity to kiss along Merlin's jaw and neck, sucking with more and more ferocity at the skin there until Merlin's legs were wrapped around Arthur's hips, tightly.

Groaning, Arthur thrust his hips forward and the resulting friction drove Merlin crazy. _Yes, yes!_ More, he needed more _._ How far was he willing to go with Arthur Pendragon in the back of his convertible in his garage while he was drunk? Too far, it seemed.

Arthur's hand was in his hair, his fist curled tightly around a handful of dark locks. He held Merlin's head in place as his mouth returned, much less gently, to suck at Merlin's. Merlin was emboldened. His fingers sought out Arthur's nipples, and his thumbs swiped over them. Arthur's fingernails dug into Merlin's hip, his lips hot, his need evident.

The door opened.

The two boys sprang apart, trying to control their panting, trying to make it not so obvious they'd been about to- what? Shag? Merlin's face was bright red. He took deep breaths.

Morgana was at the door, staring at them suspiciously.

Thank fuck she didn't say anything.

"Merlin." Her voice was cool. "There you are. Gwen's ready to go. I've gotten you two a cab."

"Oh," he said weakly, standing on legs that felt like rubber. "Thanks."

He didn't look at Arthur as the garage door closed behind him.

888

Merlin knows better than to seek Arthur out at school on Monday. He knows better than to try and catch his eye or talk about what happened. He knows not to think that his little episode with him was anything more than what it was: A quick fuck. At least, it would have been. Because Merlin was fairly sure Arthur would have gone all the way with him. And Merlin would have let him. Because you don't get to fuck guys like Arthur Pendragon everyday. Or even every lifetime.

But even so, he can't help watching Arthur's well-muscled form as he strolls into class the next day, sauntering around like the world was his yo-yo. Merlin sighs, longingly.

He knew he wasn't anything special. How many guys had he lured into that convertible to screw? Probably tons. I mean, even straight men would jump at the chance to nail a guy like Arthur. At least, he thinks. But despite knowing that he's one of many in a pool labled 'Tolerable' he can't help but feel just a little bit proud.

Yeah. He'd been about to hit _that._ Football captain, sexiest boy in school, underwear model (probably). Course, he'd been pretty wasted at the time, but nobody needed to know that little tidbit.

Merlin chewed on his lip. He could still feel Arthur hands on his hips, his waist… he could taste his lips… feel the stiffness in his pants as their hips ground together… he'd had a desperate wank about it after the party. He hadn't told Gwen about his heated chance encouter in the garage. It seemed special to him. Intimate. It was a secret he wanted to keep close to his chest. At least for now.

Maybe now he could put this debilitating crush behind him. Only Arthur seemed to hear his thoughts. His hooded eyes meet his in an intense blush-inducing flash of lightning, sending Merlin's skin tingling and his heart ringing like an alarm clock.

They locked eyes. Not just in accidental eye-contact, but in a stare so focused there was almost a palpitable link between them, binding them together and isolating them from the rest of the room. _Don't you dare forget._ His eyes said. _I still remember. I still want you. We have unfinished business, you and I._

And Merlin knew…

...they were far from over.

888

"Did you _really_ have fun, now?"

"Yes, Gwen, really. I promise."

"I'm sorry I didn't hang out with you more… I was talking to Lance and then you just seemed to disappear…"

"No, it's alright! I was doing my own thing."

"Well, we don't have to go again. I'm just glad you came with me. You're a very good friend, Merlin."

"What are you talking about? We have to go again!"

"What, really? I didn't think you really... And your eye-!"

"Pft. My eye is fine. Besides, I had a really good time, Gwen! We _have_ to go to the next one! You'll let me know when, won't you?"

888

He had to wait almost two entire agonizing months to be invited to the next party. It was a Halloween party, again hosted at the Pendragon estate, which no doubt meant the place would be decorated within an inch of its expensive life.

They argued endlessly about costumes. They were required, as Morgana Pendragon never did anything half-assed. Merlin kept Arthur in mind. He wanted to dress as something cool, something interesting, something sexy…

Gwen insisted on Harry Potter.

Not that he didn't like Harry Potter, he was quite the fan, actually. He just wasn't sure he wanted to dress up like him. In front of Arthur Pendragon.

"Why?" He kept asking Gwen whenever she brought it up. Which was everyday.

"Because!" She insisted, "Harry Potter is a wizard! And your name is Merlin!"

"If we're going for that joke, why not just dress like the _actual_ Merlin?"

"Because, this way I get to be Hermione!"

"You do realize you could dress up like _the_ Gwenevere, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "No one would recognize that. Plus, I've already got the ties!"

He resigned once she pulled the Gryffindor scarlet and gold striped neckties out of her bag, smoothing them over for him to see.

Even though it's obvious Merlin's a Ravenclaw.

888

No complaints left his lips this time, not even when he saw the fourteen ( _fourteen!)_ pumpkins carved in varying facial expressions accompanying them to the front door. Who had time to carve fourteen pumpkins?

It all had a rather deja-vu feeling about it… knocking with the stupid dragon knocker, Morgana answering with her professionally styled-looking hair, red plastic cups dotting the scenery like pointillism… only now everybody looked at least 75% more ridiculous.

He did the math.

"Merlin! Gwen!" Morgana swooped in, giving their cheeks swift kisses.

"Morgana!" Merlin said back, just as chipper.

He'd gotten to spend some time with her and Gwen over the past few weeks. He hadn't learned anything about Arthur, which admittedly, had been the original goal, but he'd quite changed his opinion of Morgana.

Confidence and beauty is easily mistaken for spoiled and snobbish, and that was exactly what Merlin first took her for: a pretty face and a bag of money. But the more he'd spent time with her, the more he was proven wrong. She was energetic and fun, and at the same time, sarcastic and biting in a way that never grew wearisome. She loved as deeply as she never wanted to admit it (a family trait, it seemed), and spared no expense at the need of her friends. She was a spitfire, one Merlin would count himself lucky to be burned by.

"What's with the costume?" he asked, though not unkindly. A minimalistic costume simply wasn't Morgana's style.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, the car ears on her head wobbling precariously. "Tell me about it. I didn't have time to plan anything else… I had to supervise Arthur carving fourteen pumpkins, and I just had these lying around, so," She shrugged. "But don't worry," She stuck out her voluptuous hips, grabbed her tail and swung it in tantalizing whirls, "Cause I look damn sexy."

She did, and even a gay man like Merlin could appreciate it. The guy two feet behind her staring at her with his jaw on his feet was testament enough. So, she certainly didn't need Merlin to affirm this for her, but he did anyway.

"It's too bad you didn't let me know you were doing Harry Potter," Morgana chided at them, "I would have told Lancelot to be Ron." She winked one eyeliner-winged eye at Gwen, who blushed.

"Is he here?"

Morgana nodded, ushering them in and shutting the door behind them. "Let's get you some drinks. Watch out for elbows now, Merlin."

Merlin, who'd been staring off every which way, looking for a mop of golden hair, snapped to attention. "Sorry," he muttered, "Thought I saw some dementors…"

"That's the spirit!" Gwen grinned, slapping him on the back cheerfully.

He was obsessed. It was ridiculous, really, how he let himself get carried away with these things. They'd made out once. Once! This was _Arthur Fucking Pendragon_ they were talking about! He was like sex incarnate! He probably made out with other people daily, and here Merlin was with one little taste and he was looking around like a dog expecting a treat. So Arthur had given him one tiny look, so what? Probably he had been thinking _'That's_ what I made out with last night?' Shit, he always did this, he always let himself go too far… They'd made out, what? Five minutes? He should just quit while he was ahead… go home, stuff his face with halloween candy, watch Breaking Bad and call it a night…

"Merlin, oh," Morgana says, hesitating as she passed him a cup heavy with alcohol, "I forgot to mention. Arthur's looking for you."

The Earth came to a screeching halt.

Not just Earth, but all the other planets as well, halting their orbits to gaze at this moment, this spot. (Except Pluto. That forgotten bastard kept spinning).

Shakily he wet dry lips. "Ah, W-what?"

"Arthur!" She repeated, louder, mistaking his incredulity for inaudibility. "My prat of a brother! He's looking for you! He wants to talk to you or something!" She did a quick check of the room. "I think he's upstairs. He was a bit tipsy when he told me, mind you, so who knows what state he's in now."

Gwen's nose crinkled. "Arthur? What does he want?"

"Something about soccer? I didn't know you played..."

He hadn't meant for that little white lie to get so out of hand. He blushed.

"I. Um. You know… a bit…"

Morgana eyed him suspiciously, taking a step closer as Gwen looked at them a little funny. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"What, play soccer?"

"No, talk to Arthur! He's a real arse when he's drunk." She rolled her eyes at him.

"No, that's okay… I'll just… pop in real quick. I'll be right back." Merlin couldn't be expected to pass up another chance to kiss Arthur, could he?

He felt Morgana's eyes on him as he left the room.

He climbed the stairs with leaded feet, letting the heavy thumps echo the beating of his frantic heart as he wiped off his sweaty palms on his robes. The upper landing was quiet. Merlin guessed the air was too light and too sober for shagging just yet.

Standing in front of the door he felt jittery.

Arthur Pendragon's room. Shit.

With a deep breath, similar to what one would take before plunging underwater, he knocked on the white door.

There was a shuffling, a pause, and a muffled "com'im…"

Merlin did, feeling slightly ill, and was greeted by a cloud of alcohol so thick he felt he could have become intoxicated just from breathing it in.

Immediately, he realized that Morgana had been right. Whatever state he'd seen Arthur in last time, he had not been drunk, contrary, of course, to Arthur's professions of intoxication.

 _This_ , quite clearly, was Arthur drunk.

It wasn't nearly as fun.

He was again lounging, (or at least had been and then couldn't get up) though this time sans Leon, spread eagle on a striped bedspread with his head tipped off the edge so he viewed the world upside-down. His only accompaniment was the five, no six, empty beer cans littered around the room like confetti. Amber liquid still dribbled out of the one closest to Merlin's right foot. He winced, imagining what it would do to the carpet. Did beer stains come out? Merlin had no expertise in this area.

Beyond the can was a neat and simple dresser, one of the ones that are long rather than tall, with nothing, not even a picture frame or mirror on top to decorate it. The walls were an eggshell-white. A desk sat in the left hand corner with only a (no doubt $2000) laptop astride it. There was no mess, no posters, no paraphernalia of any sort to indicate that a teenage boy lived here- apart from Arthur himself, of course. ...And the empty beer cans. Merlin stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, and set his cup down on the dresser before leaning against the adjacent wall.

"Merll...llyn!" Arthur greeted enthusiastically, clearly suppressing a large burp between syllables. Merlin gave a tight smile in return.

Arthur struggled to sit up, nearly fell over, then righted himself at the last moment, swaying. He ran slightly unfocused eyes over Merlin's face and outfit, taking him in. Well. Taking in what he could in his drunken stupor. Merlin felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Your...Harr' Potter." Arthur giggled (a sight to see in and of itself), and then hiccups.

"Uh. Yeah."

Arthur struggled laboriously off the bed and to his feet, using the wall as support. Once (more or less) standing and vertical, he took his time in eyeing Merlin once more. Well. Sort of. His eyes were a bit unfocused, but he was definitely giving Merlin the once- twice -thrice over. "Mmm… Mm'not gay, ya'know."

This again? "Fine."

Arthur wiggled his eyebrows, but simultaneously (and, Merlin guessed, by accident) narrowed and widened his eyes. The effect is rather alarming. "Lemme…" a hiccup, "lemme touch yor wand." More giggling.

Merlin ignored the obvious double entendre. It would not be the last of the night. "You're not wearing a costume at all," he noted, taking in Arthur's washed jeans and tee.

"MMmmno, I am!" Arthur insisted, standing up with difficulty. He has to lean against the wall. "Look. M'normal."

"That's a stupid costume." Merlin snapped, rather annoyed. He really didn't feel like putting up with drunk Arthur. Did he have different intentions when he summoned him up here? Or had he been drunk then too? He'd been expecting… he'd been expecting… well. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Morgana… Morgana's a cat." One hand on the wall, Arthur stumbled closer to him, making the stench of alcohol more pungent.

"Yes, I saw."

Arthur made an honest to god cat noise at him, though he doesn't do the little claw motion to go with it, which is lucky as it combined with the difficult process of walking probably would have knocked him over. He was much closer now, but Merlin takes a step back to even things out.

"Look, is there a reason you wanted to me come up here, or are you just gonna screw around with me?"

This sent Arthur into cascades of laughter, which was not the reaction Merlin had been hoping for.

"Skew'round…" Arthur shook his head, stepping into Merlin's personal bubble, leaning their chests together and resting his head on Merlin's shoulder in a tired sort of fashion. "See? Da's why I like you. Righ' to da point."

"Arthur- please- would you not- ?" He shoved half-heartedly at the prat's shoulders, but he proved to be a blobulous mass of muscle.

Arthur groaned in a sort of tired, drunken way, and his tongue lolled out, warm and wet against Merlin's neck.

His heart started trembling like a china store in an earthquake, but Arthur is clearly just warming up. He left hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses around Merlin's collar like a necklace. His neck is wet, but he cannot deny that the sensation of lips moving slowly and gently on his neck is arousing (if overly wet).

But his stomach clenched tight like a fist when he realized the sensation brushing against his waistband wasn't just lust but Arthur's quickly burrowing hand.

"Arthur," he muttered, giving him another shove, though harder now. "C'mon, I don't want to."

"Mer'in! Mer'in, Mer'in, Mer'in…" A clumsy hand came up to stroke from his hair to his cheek. "Yor so pretty, Mer'in, yor so pretty…"

Was that supposed to soothe him? Arthur's lips squelched over Merlin's, a thick tongue poking out, ready to invade, but Merlin turned his head sideways, beginning to sweat, beginning to panic. Arthur's meaty paw kept mauling at him, trying to get his chin, pull it forward so that he could kiss him.

Merlin twisted his head up, fighting to keep his mouth free. He could feel things spiralling out of control. Shit, this wasn't really happening, this wasn't _really_ happening was it?

"C'mere… Mer'in…so pretty…C'mon…"

"Arthur!" He said, louder this time, ignoring how his voice shook like he was on the verge of tears. "Arthur, stop! Stop it! _Stop!_ _Arthur!"_

Arthur's hand was definitely in his pants now, but this was nothing like Merlin wanted it to be. He was drunk and slurring and heavy and hot… pushing roughly past layers of fabric with sweaty palms. Merlin could just feel the weight leaning on him, pushing him back, pinning him down, making him feel helpless.

Arthur had him leaning against the dresser. The edge of it was cutting into his lower back, preventing him from backing up, preventing him from escaping. Arthur was pressing in from the front so forcefully he had to catch himself on the wooden surface with one hand to keep from being flattened backward horizontally on top of it.

"Get off, _get off me!"_ Voice cracking, adrenaline rushing, heart pounding, Merlin pushed at Arthur's broad shoulders desperately with one hand, but he can't get any leverage with one hand at this angle. Even if he could, it'd be no use. Arthur was huge. Arthur was made of lean, raw muscle. He could easily overpower Merlin. There was no way Merlin could win a physical fight. There was no way.

"Mer'in, Mer'in, Mer'in…" Arthur was cooing like he didn't even notice how hard Merlin was struggling, like it didn't even matter. His lips burned Merlin's throat.

Arthur's thick fingers wriggled around in Merlin's crotch. They found his dick - flaccid and unwilling - and wrapped themselves around it, giving him a too hard squeeze that made Merlin see stars. He let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a squeal. The hand continued to move - feeling, squeezing, violating…

Shit, shit, he'd read columns and tips, watched Youtube videos made for this exact fucking situation, but he couldn't remember a single. Fucking. Thing. His mind was in a blind, white-hot panic. He knew he couldn't fight Arthur off with force. He knew he needed to think. But all his brain was doing was screaming at him:

 _Out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!_

Which he'd figured out already, thanks.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something cylindrical and red. His cup. He seized it, knowing it was a stupid, useless weapon, and smashed it into Arthur's stupid face.

Arthur stumbled back. Not hurt, but surprised, and dripping in undrunk alcohol - the last thing Arthur needed.

He held his arms out slightly, looking down at his drenched front, and then looking at Merlin, startled, like he hadn't known what he was doing, like he was trying to fit the pieces together.

They stared at each other.

Arthur blinked, mouth working soundlessly.

Then, Merlin's brain seemed to finish its untimely reboot. It kicked into high gear.

Merlin got the fuck out of that room.

Embarrassed, humiliated, feeling like he was about to vomit, Merlin fought desperately through the crowd. He was too scared to look behind him, too afraid he might find Arthur following him…

"Gwen!" He gasped desperately when he finally spotted her by the pool table, talking to Lance. He grabbed her sleeve. "Gwen, please, let's go, I want to go."

"Merlin, we just - Merlin? What's wrong?"

Bless her, Gwen gave him her full attention. Lance, ignored, frowned from the sidelines.

"Gwen, please, I want to go. Let's go, please, Gwen…" He was near tears, but fought them back. His lip trembled dangerously. "I'll- I'll, later, I- I swear, please let's go, _please…_ "

She was already setting her drink down, forehead furrowed. "Okay, Merlin, alright, it's okay." She touched his arms, peered into his face. "I'll get my purse. Go wait by the car, okay? I will be right there, I promise."

"Let me," Lance said, scurrying off, no doubt glad to be free of the drama.

"Merlin, are you okay?" Gwen was starting to panic too, now. "What happened? What's going on?"

"Please, Gwen I just want to go home. I just want to go home…" He buried his face in his hands as Gwen pulled him in tightly.

He heard a muffled, "Thanks," then they were moving, Gwen pulling him along. They were almost out, the cool breeze ruffling along Merlin's skin, when there was suddenly a new voice, high pitched and alarmed.

"Is that Merlin? What happened? Where's Arthur?"

"Sorry, Morgana," Gwen said liltingly, "got to go. Talk to you later."

The door slammed behind them.

He'd escaped.

888

"So... You're just going to forget it?"

"I'm not _forgetting_ it, Gwen. I'm just choosing not to pursue it."

"And by persue, you mean report."

"Report? Report what? Nothing happened."

"Nothing happ- Merlin! He assaulted you!"

"Just a bit! Besides, it was really my fault. I shouldn't have been upstairs, alone with him drunk, in his room... You know. It gives off signals."

" 'Assault me' signals? That's ridiculous! Merlin, it's never the victim's fault."

"I'm not a victim, Gwen! I wasn't raped or anything! He was just really forward, and I panicked a bit."

"This doesn't feel right. I don't think you should just swallow this down. You should tell someone, let him deal with the do sequences of his actions."

"Gwen, I just got to this school! I'm just making new friends now! I don't- there's no one from my old school. I don't have anyone else. I don't want to make a big huge mess over something that _really_ isn't a big deal. I swear, I was exaggerating, it wasn't that bad. It was the heat of the moment."

"I don't know, Merlin. You were really shook up. Maybe... Maybe... I don't think..."

"Gwen, please... I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

888

On Monday, Arthur tried to catch Merlin's eye three separate times. Merlin politely pretended not to notice.

He was content to ignore the entire thing… to act as if it had never happened. The very last thing he wanted was to make a huge thing out of it, to have to alert the police or the school... then he'd have to tell his mother, and then sooner or later the entire student body would find out… it would be inevitable. Everyone would know how he'd been humiliated. Felt up like a girl, except it was worse because he'd been wearing that stupid costume. And was a boy.

Besides, it wasn't like he'd been raped or anything. Nothing had happened. There were plenty of other victims- actual victims- that the authorities could spend their time on. It wasn't even a big deal, really. Arthur had been a lot drunk and a little horny, that was all. It was Merlin's own fault for freaking out like he did. Shit, one guy wants to touch him and he nearly wet himself and ran away. It was ridiculous.

Like he said, he was perfectly ready to move on.

But Arthur was making it difficult.

Besides being insanely gorgeous (and damn Merlin for still thinking it) he was not his usual confident and boisterous self, laughing loudly with his lug-head buddies till the whole room echoed with his velvety voice.

No, today he was quiet, reserved. His demure eyes were calculating, probing, but downcast above dark bags.

To anyone who didn't know better (which meant anyone who wasn't Merlin) they might have assumed Arthur had a late Sunday, perhaps left his homework to the last second as muscle-bound jocks are wont to do.

And if Merlin didn't know better he might have thought Arthur was… upset with himself. Repentant, even, if that perturbing gaze was anything to go by.

He said he wanted to let the whole drunk debacle go, and he had meant it. But was he ready to let Arthur go? Could there possibly be more to their short, alcohol-saturated lust-affair? And if there was, did he want it?

On one hand… just look at him! Tanned muscles, soft blonde hair, blue eyes, straight from a Neo-Nazi pornmag. But on the other hand… well, just look at him. Enough confidence for the entire football team, clearly false ideas of what constitutes as 'gay,' loud, annoying, obnoxious jock with a talent for chugging beers where his frontal lobe should be.

Merlin resolved to ignore the problem and hoped it went away. Hey, it had worked with that math test! More or less.

But he kept seeing glimpses of golden -blonde hair, haunting him in the hallways like a ghost. Each ghastly sighting came with a message. "I want to talk to you." Which merlin stubbornly ignored, like the way a wealthy housewife ignores the signs of her husband's infidelity, even as she's fishing unfamiliar bras out from under the bed. A sort of you don't exist if I don't look at you mentality. So far so good. But Merlin's streak came to an eventual end. A stinking, smoking, terrible end.

The dismissal bell rang, and Merlin was ready to make a clean escape. Having seen, yet again, Arthur's boots (just well worn enough to know they weren't just a fashion statement... Shit this guy hit every cylinder Merlin had) and stupid beacon- like hair coming down the hallway, Merlin managed to dodge out a side door. And he thought he'd done it- avoided Arthur all day without so much as accidental eye-contact to speak of. But all his efforts were for naught, ending in a cloud of black toxic (was it toxic? Merlin didn't actually know. Surely not... Well, okay, maybe if you huffed it nonstop for like, hours?) gas.

He'd stuck his keys into his trusty Honda, only to find it was done being trusty. Poisonous earth-killing fumes were spilling out of the front end of his car now, as opposed to the back where they were supposed to be. He supposed it was sort of like vomiting. For a car.

He sat there for a few minutes, slinking down in his seat, mortified, as he watched other students walk past, laughing and pointing at the poor bloke with the car. Once he tried to re-started it, and hoped that in keeping with the 'ignore your problems' theme of the day, the car would just fix-itself. It didn't. What it did do was emit a, frankly, alarming grinding noise. Merlin did not attempt to re-start it again.

He had to wait ten minutes before he deemed that the foot-traffic had let up enough and the snorting of laugher and hums of empathy had died down enough for him to exit the vehicle. He popped the hood and stood over the engine, waving dramatically to dissipate the last of the black smoke. When it had cleared, he immediately knew the problem: he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

It just looked like a jumble of twisted metal and wires to him. Course, he had known that it would, but he had no idea what else to do. Okay, he could point out the obvious things… the battery (looked a-okay) and, ooh, there's the windshield-wiper fluid (seemed to be functioning properly), and yes, of course, the distributor cap (at least… he thinks it was the distributor cap. He only ever google image searched it the one time, and only then because Janet Evanovich had talked about it in one of those famously steamy detective novels- you know, the kind he definitely didn't read).

He was coming to the inevitable conclusion that he was going to have to call his mother. He didn't want to bother her at work (and he really didn't want to be _that_ kid) but he didn't have the number for the insurance company (or was he supposed to call a tow truck? He really didn't know the protocol here) and Gwen would already be on the bus by this point.

He had the little card with his insurance on it in his hand, squinting at it as he contemplated his limited options and lamented the loss in his head (How could she _do_ this too him? After he'd been so damn good to her? And he'd just gotten a full tank of gas yesterday, for fuck's sake!) When he suddenly became aware of a thick presence behind him. He whirled around to come face to face with the tanned boy he'd been avoiding all day. So much for that. Damn his ancient car! She couldn't have broken down while he was trying to _get_ to school?

"Car trouble?" Arthur asked lightly, announcing his inopportune arrival with a smile, "Need a jump?"

"Need a new car, is more like." Merlin mumbled, edging away and looking down. He hated how hard his heart was pounding.

Arthur dropped his backpack from where it was perched one broad shoulder and looked past Merlin and into the depths of engine-hell below. He must have seen more than Merlin had, for he frowned and made an "Mmm…" noise, sort of like a doctor does before he announces you have a week to live. "Won't be able to drive on this."

"Thanks, but I got that." Merlin bit out, moving back toward the center of the hood so Arthur would have to move out of his way. He continued to look down into it's depths, like he knew what he was doing, crumpling his insurance slightly in his fist, pretending he wasn't hyper-aware of Arthur next to him. He could hear him breathing, shifting from foot to foot, distinctly not leaving.

"You've been avoiding me." His voice was level, quiet, but matter of fact.

Merlin had his answer ready. "Yeah? Well, you've been stalking me."

He didn't like to look at Arthur, with his heart pounding like it was and his armpits feeling increasingly damp, but he chanced a quick glance. Arthur did not look ashamed at this accusation, even as founded as it was. "Not stalking," Arthur said, a hand sneaking into his jeans pocket, one shoulder shrugging, "Just wanted a word."

"I didn't."

Arthur nodded like he understood, the sun coming down at an angle to comb through glittering hair. Merlin's stomach clenched. Due to nerves or anger, he wasn't quite sure. How could he still feel this way? Arthur stared back, expression dark, apprehensive.

"You're going to have to call a tow." He continued, as if there had been no pause.

"I _know_. I'm not a complete moron, you know." Merlin seethed. He honestly didn't know why Arthur was hanging around, harping on about his car. Why didn't he bother someone else? In any other situation, Merlin would simply walk out but all things considered, he was a bit stuck.

Arthur took a smooth step forward to pluck the little insurance card out of his hand. "This your insurance? Let me."

"No!" Merlin protested, finally stepping away from the car, his arms outstretched "I don't need your help!"

Arthur ignored him, already tapping away on a phone produced out of his tight jeans and holding it to his ear.

"I can do it myse-"

"Hello!" Arthur said brightly into his phone.

" _Arthur!"_

He turned away, plugging his free ear. "Yes, I'll be needing a tow for my friend here."

Rubbing his temples, Merlin leaned against the driver's side door as Arthur chatted. No matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to go his way. He felt rather helpless.

"They said an hour," Arthur said, turning back to him, "But you know how it is. They'll be here in three, maybe." He grinned, looking like a puppy expecting to be pet.

"Great. Thanks, see you." Merlin said pointedly.

"Merlin…" Arthur seemed to sag, he looked at Merlin like he was desperate for something, as for what that was, exactly, Merlin was at a loss.

"Arthur, I don't know what you want from me," Merlin couldn't take beating around the bush like this anymore. "But I really don't want to be around you right now."

Arthur sighed, looking down at his shoe which he scuffed against the pavement. "Yeah." He said, "I get it. I know I'm making a mess of things. I just… I don't to this a lot." He took a deep breath before looking up at Merlin's face again. He seemed set, determined. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. About… everything. I was way out of line." He paused like he was waiting for Merlin to say something. When Merlin remained silent, he ploughed on, more quickly than ever.

"I was drunk- I know that's not an excuse- but I was. And recently I've been so… confused. You know, figuring things out, wondering if… if I like boys." His face filled up with red flush, but he refused to look away.

If anything, Merlin could relate to this. He knew what it was like, trying to sort out your feelings, trying to organize your own chaotic mind, alone. Alone, and afraid. Afraid of what your family would think, afraid of what your friends would say, how disgusted they would be when they saw the real you. He remembered staring straight ahead in the locker room, determined not to look left or right, because they would catch him looking. They would catch him, and they would know…

Merlin had been very lucky to have the friend he did.

"You were there and you were so… so… beautiful." Arthur's tight voice yanked him back to the present. Arthur looked physically strained. He was obviously spilling his guts, here. There was no doubt in Merlin's mind that he was telling the truth (however difficult it was for him). The least Merlin could do was listen. "And I just wanted to be with you. I just wanted…" Arthur's jaw clenched and unclenched, visibly. "I was selfish, and spoiled. I thought I could have whatever I wanted. It was stupid, and more importantly, wrong. I'm sorry." He let out a deep breath, and finally looked away.

It was the oddest thing… Merlin had been insisting and insisting that the whole thing had been something he was more than willing to sweep under the rug, and while that was certainly true, he had been nearly to the brim with anger and fear.

And then… this prat. This gorgeous, honest, arrogant assehold came along and _apologized_ of all things, and next thing you know all signs of resentment melted away like snow on a warm spring day. It's frightening, really. Merlin had always been quick to forgive, but surely he's supposed to be more upset than this? Instead, and it's ludicrous, really, it is, but Arthur looking as downtrodden and dejected as he did, Merlin wanted to comfort the son of a bitch. Comfort him, like this entire thing wasn't his own damn fault.

"Anyway," Arthur said, once he seemed to give up on getting an answer from Merlin, "Sorry about the tow. I just wanted to… nevermind. I'll get out of your hair. No more, uh, stalking. Promise."

Stooping to pick up his bag, Arthur threw one last contrite glance at Merlin before turning himself around and marching across the lot.

 _Fuck, that ass, though…_

Merlin found himself calling after him. He knew it was a mistake, but it was as if his voice didn't consult his brain before acting.

"Hey! Arthur!"

He swung round, pausing. "Yeah?"

"You know these tow trucks take forever. What do you say to a little company?"

If only he'd known how big of a mistake it was.

888

They promised they would take things slow. Keep it a secret. As it was, Merlin already had had enough first hand experience of what it was like being the school's resident gay kid: relaxing in the extremely fair, judgment free zone of high school, exempt from teenage social pressure 888 it fucking sucked. And Arthur had no burning desire to find out exactly how much.

So they took things slow.

Right up to Merlin's front door, where that little pact went straight to hell.

Proving once and for all that teenage boys have no self control, a tour of the house quickly became a tour of Merlin's bedroom, quickly became a tour of Merlin's body.

He knew he was being reckless, but he couldn't help himself. Arthur was fit! He was fit and charming and polite and beautiful and sober...

...And Merlin's mom was out.

Two young, healthy, attractive boys... questioning their sexuality… without parental supervision… it was a perfect storm.

Of course, his mum was out quite often, so it wasn't much of a coincidence. She was a receptionist at the hospital- all of the crazy hours, most of the stress, none of the actual nursing duties. She was quite popular with the other receptionists as she was known for taking any shift, any time, no questions asked.

Despite everything he'd seen from Arthur in the past, here, now, in a steamy heap on top of Merlin's sheets, he showed he could be gentle. Merlin sat astride his hips as Arthur lay splayed on his back. Both their shirts had thrown overboard quite a while back, and the boys were all the better for it.

Merlin's hands grazed over spectacular muscles- defined enough to belong to a man twice as old, smooth enough to belong to boy a half as young. He grinned down at Arthur shyly between experimental kisses placed haphazardly a heated, blushing body.

And Arthur let him have the run of it. There was so much to explore, endless peaks and valleys of strong, tanned, skin. He bent to taste firm lips like he was drinking from a cool fountain. He nibbled on his jawline, licked up his throat, slid along his collar, sampled a cheekbone so delicious he wanted to lick his fingers.

Then there was his chest, the likes of which would make David himself cry with envy. Smooth, warm, firm, but perfectly soft. Even though he was dying to touch Arthur's nipples, his hands slid right by without contact. He'd never done anything quite like this before, and he was too afraid he'd do something wrong and Arthur would laugh. A peal of condescending laughter now, while Merlin was so naked and vulnerable, would ruin everything. There would be plenty of time for more later.

Instead, his fingers ghosted over hills of muscle and rib. He discovered a single brown, fat freckle sitting unabashedly atop Arthur's right hip on otherwise flawless skin and stamped it with a kiss.

Arthur, his hair steadily becoming messier as he shifted and reshifted on the pillows, gave some well appreciated feedback. Encouragement, in the forms of little gasps and groans that Merlin enjoyed almost as much as Arthur himself. Somewhat in the back of his mind Merlin suspected these little exclamations were entirely for his own benefit. He ignored this feeling.

A bit further down stood Arthur's waistband- solid, seemingly impenetrable denim blue, a thick barrier that sternly cut off the lower, forbidden half, blankly staring up at him from beneath a light dusting of black hairs, a promise of what was to come. The same feature that on his body was gross on Arthur was enticing.

It was thrilling and terrifying, and confusing all at the same time. Merlin wasn't sure what

he was supposed to do. He wasn't even sure what he _wanted_ to do. But before he had to decide his hands reached a ticklish spot, and Arthur's laugh was like colorful puffs of smoke peppering the air. Strong arms wrapped around him, enveloped him, pulled him in close, kept him safe.

"Merlin," he was like butter on warm toast, "You're amazing."

No one had ever told him that before.

888

They turned out to be as bad at subtlety as they were at keeping their promises. Changes came fast and hard. From the rest of the schools' perspective they'd gone from complete strangers to very best friends, skipping all the stages in-between.

It was suddenly abnormal to see one without the other, for they were partnered during every class, always chatted in the halls, and walked together to and from the parking lot (because one hardly needed the bus with a hot friend with a hot motorcycle). Merlin quickly went from Mr. Dorkbutt McLoner to Arthur's other half, his best bud, sidekick, lackey, amigo, pal, devoted follower, pity-case, bi-curious fuck buddy… Officially, they were just friends, but the relationship was called many things. Really, it depended who you asked.

If Arthur was asked, he'd put on a bright smile and call them unlikely friends.

If Merlin was asked, he'd turn bright red, stutter a lot, and end up with 'I don't know.'

Merlin didn't really care what the rest of the school thought of him- after all, before Arthur came along he'd been a blip, a fart in the air conditioning- but Arthur always seemed supremely concerned with the public opinion.

Merlin supposed it made sense. It was the masses who'd gotten him so popular in the first place (besides his charisma and good looks and athletic build and mansion and motorcycle and good looks…) so it only followed that he'd be more worried about upholding the 'cool guy' reputation.

But whatever Arthur said- insisting left, right and center that they were Just friends with a capital J - he didn't seem capable of controlling his actions.

Little touches in the hall, brushes of the fingers that made Merlin's body shudder. And of course, there were the football practices.

Merlin waited, almost daily, for them to end so he could catch a ride home with Arthur. He stretched himself out on the bleachers, books spread out leisurely on the cold metal, trying to get through some homework that he'd never finish, and not just because the autumn wind kept rifling through the pages. There was simply no way to make math _less_ appealing than taking your sexy, hopeless school-time crush, stripping him half naked, and having him run around on a field with a bunch of other good-looking men.

During breaks he'd trot out onto the field, water bottles in hand (sometimes with domestic little snacks, like orange slices) ready to feed and re-hydrate. Consequently, and quite accidentally, he'd been taken on as the team's unofficial water boy, a position he was greatly enjoying. Being Arthur's friend had plenty of advantages, but Merlin's favorite so far was without a doubt the team. Never before had he made so many friends so quickly. Never before had he had so many friends, period.

They accepted Merlin's presence on the field without question, like he was just supposed to be there, like he'd always been there.

Arthur would shove at his shoulder, ruffle his hair, drape his arm protectively around Merlin, making sure everyone knew just whose friend he really was. And Merlin, blushing, stuttering, fumbling with leftover orange slices, loved it.

The other teammates laughed and rolled their eyes at one another. Gwaine, one of Arthur's closest teammates, was usually grinning at them, a sharp comment always on his tongue as he shook ridiculously smooth and springy chestnut hair from his eyes.

Leon was always there, too, just like he was that day in the garage. Sipping on his own water bottle…seeing everything. But saying nothing.

888

"...and he actually drove over with a pizza just because I said I was hungry, can you believe that, Gwen?"

"Yes, wow, that's very thoughtful of him."

"It was _so_ sweet! I felt like I was in a romantic comedy. It's seriously unreal how amazing he is."

"Hey, did you finish your math homework? I was sort of hoping you could help me with it."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Arthur and I did it together last night. It was really nice; he really knows what he's doing, you know, not like a lot of the idiots in our class. He's practically perfect. I still can't believe we're together."

"Well, you're not, aren't you?"

"...What? No, no, we are. We kiss all the time and888"

"No, I mean not to the rest of the world. No one really knows."

"Well. No. But888"

"So it's like friends with benefits almost?"

"I see where you're coming from, but we really are… it's just... you know what the kids at school are like and then his dad is like super strict and everything… It's tough, but he really does want to be with me."

"Of course he does, Merlin, you're amazing! He's lucky to have you. I'm just wondering… He's got to tell eventually, hasn't he? Unless you break up, you can't keep it a secret forever. What's the end game?"

"We're just in High School, Gwen, there doesn't have to be an 'end game'."

"I just don't think it's very fair to you, that's all."

"Fair to me? You don't get it, Gwen. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life! It's not fair that _he_ has to put up with _me!_ You know he has to lie to his whole team _and_ his friends _and_ his only family all the time just so we can hang out?"

"I don't think888 "

"I'm happy with him. Okay, Gwen?"

"Okay."

"..."

"..."

"Let's start with this problem here."

888

As things turned out, Merlin had been absolutely spot on about the maths class. Ealdor High had been slightly ahead. That, combined with his natural love for numbers, assured him an easy year. Or at least an easy time until Christmas.

Naturally, this wasn't the case for everyone. Most poor students were unfortunately not blessed with such comprehensive ease in mathematics, and (unthinkably) cursed it into oblivion.

But, Merlin took pity on these misguided and confused souls. He sat down with them and taught them the wily curves of sine waves, taught them how to tickle lady cosine's ample bosom just how she liked it. Many students came to admire Merlin's digital dexterity and he became quite popular- at least when testing time rolled around. He did seem to have a way of explaining things just right so that he could practically hear the 'click' as things slid into place in his tutee's heads.

"Oooohhh," Gwaine exclaimed as the light bulb came on, "Okay, like _this._ "

Gwaine was a regular for Merlin's little after school tutoring sessions. While there was no question of his loyalty, courage, or genuine kindness, he was not what one would call studious. Or eager to learn. But between the two of them, the boys managed to scrape together enough determination to hunker down in an empty classroom and drill problem sets until someone cried Uncle.

"Yeah, there you go…" Merlin nodded his approval from where he peeked over Gwaine's shoulder, "nice. Okay, great! Just do the same exact thing on the test."

"Shit, I don't know what I'd have done without you, Merlin." Gwaine sighed, his pencil working furiously now, "I seriously think Aredian's out to get me."

Merlin snorted. "Sure… it doesn't have anything to do with how you never show up or hand in your homework on time or fall asleep in class or never pay attention…"

"Alright, alright, fair enough. But he's kind of a douche. Look at what he did to that poor sophomore bastard."

This did give Merlin some pause for thought. Everyone knew the infamous story of the sophomore geometry student who left the classroom last week in tears, locked himself in the bathroom, and refused to come out for an hour, claiming Mr. Aredian had been 'mean' to him."Yeah, okay." Merlin admitted, "So he's a bit snappish… but I'm sure the whole thing was exaggerated. Maybe that kid deserved it. I mean, he has a bad reputation, but I think he's a good teacher! He's been nothing but nice to me!"

"Well of course he's nice to his little prodigy child," Gwaine grinned, effectively swinging a muscled arm around Merlin's neck. There was some truth to his words that caused Merlin to blush.

He was by no means a prodigy child, that was for sure, but it was true that he was ahead of the class. Ahead in a way that when the class was silent in a fog of swirling confusion, a wry smile would spread over Mr. Aredian's face and he would sigh dramatically and say, "Well maybe _Merlin_ knows…"

And Merlin, blushing and stuttering, always did. It made him feel a bit like a teacher's pet, yes, but it wasn't his fault that Aredian called on him so much- it wasn't as if he was constantly raising his hand. Besides, it was always helpful to have a teacher on your side, wasn't it?

Gwaine ruffled Merlin's hair, affectionately. "Oh, Merlin. Always believing the best in people… how did you ever end up best friends with a guy like Arthur?" He laughed at the look on Merlin's face. "Don't be so embarrassed! Nerds are in. Very sexy."

Merlin shoved his hand away, only to have Gwaine push back at him playfully.

"Hey," a voice from the back end of the classroom stopped them before their antics could evolve into a full blown shoving match, "there's an awful lot of touching going on there for math…"

Gwaine shared an eye roll with Merlin. "You know, Arthur," he said sardonically, "You really don't have to wait around for us to finish. I am perfectly capable of driving Merlin home safe and sound myself."

Arthur gave a derisive snort over the top of _Othello_. "Safe and sound? I think we both know your driving record would say otherwise…"

"It was one speeding ticket! One!"

Arthur raised a smug eyebrow at him as he licked his index and middle fingers to turn the page. "Exactly."

"Right," Gwaine said, the smooth words coming out of his mouth like honey, "Because motorcycles are so safe and secure."

This, at least, got Arthur to blush. "I'll have you know!" He began indignantly, "that when learned and used in a careful, efficient, way, and when the proper safety precautions are used-"

"Yeah, yeah, your majesty," Gwaine waved him off, "I'm trying to pass calc here. Merlin," He looked up at him from under his eyelashes, "help me with this next one, will you?"

Arthur scowled, but remained silent, his feet propped up on an empty chair from where he lounged in the back corner.

Merlin wasn't fooled by their back and forth. As much as they fought, he knew how close they really were. Gwaine was one of Arthur's best friends, and one of his football teammates to boot. Merlin trusted him implicitly. And, more importantly, so did Arthur.

Which was good, really. Because sometimes Merlin worried Gwaine wouldn't get away with half the things that came out of his mouth had the two been enemies.

888

Despite many, many protests and an equal number of excuses, Arthur did eventually manage to drag Merlin out onto the football field. Now, it wasn't kicking and screaming, per say, but it was with a certain lack of cooperation and enthusiasm that Merlin found himself outside on this gorgeous fall day.

It was easy for Arthur. He looked like he belonged. It was as if he had come pre-packaged wearing shin guards and cleats. His under-armour stretched across a broad, well sculpted chest tight enough to hint at all the muscles bunched underneath, loose enough not to look ridiculous. He was a professional. He knew what he was doing. Even lacing up what looked like spanking new trainers he was crackling with energy that hid just below the surface of his skin, ready to run and sweat and kick. It was clearly his element.

Meanwhile, Merlin was just… sort of there. Inside his own muddy, sole- flapping sneakers his toes curled with anxiety. He stood in the 'exercise' attire he'd gotten from a second hand shop, hoping he didn't look too ridiculous. He'd be doing enough of that soon enough anyway. He felt gawky and unbalanced… out of place next to the pinnacle of man on his right, over here. It rather felt like Arthur was his personal trainer rather than an opponent. He knew he was about to dominate here, right? He'd seen Merlin, yes? Shit, this was going to suck.

"You know, I don't even think we're supposed to be out here."

He could practically hear Arthur rolling his eyes. "It's fine, Merlin! I come to the school field all the time on Saturdays. We're not going to get in trouble." He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "Did you want to start with some warm ups?"

It was phrased like a question, but it sounded like a command. However, Merlin had no idea what he was doing, so he agreed easily, indulging Arthur by copying his movements and even following him as he jogged once around the field.

 _It wasn't so bad, really, this soccer stuff_ , Merlin had decided, _Maybe I can just fake it._

Boy, had he been wrong. Unlike himself, Arthur seemed to be enjoying this, not tolerating it.

"Okay. Let's do some practice shots. You get in goal."

Merlin did so as Arthur herded the ball effortlessly between his feet. A moment ago it sat harmlessly by itself on the field. Now it seemed a viable weapon.

For a moment they stared at each other awkwardly.

"Ready?" Arthur had to finally break the silence to ask.

"Yeah."

Arthur gave him a sort of 'You don't look ready' suspicion filled look. Merlin, in an effort to please, sort of crouched a bit, like he'd done this before.

He was determined to at least make it close. Several people knew about this little lie now… he had to save some face. Heart pounding, he watched Arthur's foot cock back. He stared intently, watching the toe of the shoe, looking for clues as to what direction the ball would be headed.

Arthur's leg shot forward in a textbook example of a goal kick. At least, it was what Merlin would imagine was a textbook example. He doubted very much such a thing really existed. The ball disappeared.

Merlin stood up straight, abandoning his pose. _Huh,_ he thought, assuming the ball went wide, _he missed._

...Just as it sailed into the net a foot to his right.

Oh.

Arthur had clearly given him an easy shot. ...And Merlin had done his best impression of a tree.

Arthur said nothing as he sunk another easy goal.

And another.

And another.

And another.

While Merlin, in the meantime, mostly flailed around in the net, trying not to get hit with the cannonballs Arthur shot at him, but at the same time trying to catch them. The result was disastrous.

At the end of five minutes, Arthur was doubled over in laughter as Merlin was shamefully looking down and fiddling with his thumbs, exposed and vulnerable.

"Oh, _Merlin,_ " Arthur said, still fighting the chuckles that bubbled up from his lips like a fountain. He strolled over, grinning at the flush slapped across Merlin's cheeks. He threw an arm around Merlin's limp shoulders. "You didn't have to lie," He said, "I'd have liked you even if I'd known how shit you are."

Merlin covered his face in his hands, groaning embarrassedly. "I didn't think I'd ever actually have to play you!" He explained feebly.

Arthur kissed his cheek, and the two ended up back in Arthur's dad's car. Although there was no more soccer that day, there was definitely some scoring.

888

Arthur's dad was just as absent as Merlin's mum, although in a different way. Instead of long, oddly-timed shifts and sleeping half the day, he'd suddenly pick up for urgent business across the country and not return for weeks on end, leaving Morgana and Arthur with only the occasional maid popping in. Apparently, Uther was something of an international businessman.

What with two absentee parents, one of the boys' households was consistently unsupervised. Merlin used to think they were exuberantly lucky. Now maybe he thinks those kinds of lonely people are just drawn to each together, like one can just see the emptiness inside the other. Whatever the reason, it made for a lot of sex. Or, at least, they were working up to it very quickly.

Arthur's mouth, Merlin was discovering, and the things he could do with it, were positively sinful. He'd never imagined that someone else's fingers on him could feel so good. And it took so embarrassingly little to get him going...

But Merlin didn't like hanging around at Arthur's house as much as he did his own. This was understandably odd, as by all accounts he should have loved it. After all, his bedroom could have fit in Arthur's garage… twice. They had their own swimming pool _and_ home theater. But for some reason he just never really felt comfortable there. Everything was so expensive, so breakable. It was clear he didn't belong in his too big jeans and second hand shoes, like a turd in raisinets. And of course there was still the weirdest art collection known to mankind. A man suffering from a disease of rotting junk food on his skin, an egyptian standing proudly outside his igloo… who were they trying to kid here?

He did his best to hide his blatant confustion and disgust from Arthur, but once muttered 'What the fuck...' out loud instead of safely inside his own head. Luckily, Arthur had only laughed. "I know," he agreed, "Our decorator is extremely…. eccentric. Uther's been meaning to fire her for ages. But, you know, he's never here. Plus, Morgana _likes_ them." He rolled his eyes at Merlin, pulling him along to show him something in his room, or the basement, or any dark corner which they both knew was a clumsy excuse to get them alone and secluded.

888

Being with Arthur, Merlin quickly discovered, meant being one of the guys. And being one of the guys meant after-game celebrations at the pub (and they were always celebrations, thank you, because Arthur was not a captain that tolerated losing). This was not one of Merlin's favorite activities where Arthur was concerned. Or even in general for that matter. The ways of the soccer player were strange to him. He was an outsider, and it was obvious. They were loud and obnoxious and paid no mind to the annoyed looks of the other patrons. It was a world where punches on the arm and noogies were a sign of affection, where Gwaine constantly tried to convince the bartender they were old enough to drink.

Merlin stuck near Arthur and used him as both his ticket in and reason for being there, the bridge that connected their two dimensions. The team accepted him more and more. As if he was really on the field with them instead of just watching from the bleachers. But even so he stuck by Arthur. It was comforting. It was where he belonged. Arthur's word, his touch, his approval was the only thing he craved. And the fact that he gave it so seldomly only made Merlin want him more.

Alone it was more apt to happen, - tender words murmured in his ear. Or, you know, screamed out in a moment of passion. But with his mates it was different, it was like he was always trying to prove something. Like he always needed them to know how macho he was, how independent. How he was Mr. Mega-straight alpha male.

"At this point, Merlin, you might as well join the team," Gwaine would say as Merlin tagged along to yet another celebration.

"Oh, yeah, I heard you play a bit. Goalie, right?" Kay would add, with a quick glance in Percy's direction.

"Play?" Arthur would scoff, "Merlin couldn't hit the ball if it was magnetized to his foot!"

Or, "You heard how the school nurse had that breakdown, right?" Lance would say.

"No… what happened?" Merlin would ask.

And Arthur would cut in sharply with, "Merlin, you never cease to amaze me with the amount of information you miss with the ridiculous size of your ears. Really, its no wonder you can't land a girlfriend. Those things are practically an abstinence add…"

Merlin would blush and, knowing it was all in good fun, knowing Arthur was just teasing, knowing the whole team really did like him, his heart would break… just a little.

888

It was quiet. Peaceful quiet. The kind that comes from two people taking a break from the day, simply enjoying one another's company. Or at least on person enjoying the other's company while the second person sat in a silent fuming temper.

Merlin was lying face down on sheets with a softness that neared the point of absurdity, swinging his feet through the air like a teenage girl reading _Seventeen_ Magazine. What he was really reading was an article on the endangered Sumatran Tiger (Fewer than 400 left in existence, people!) but this was way more interesting than finding out if he was an autumn or a summer.

Arthur was the one silently fuming. Seated at his desk, Merlin could only only see his back, but there were more than enough clues to figure it out. The open math book, the frustrated grunts, the frequent bouts of erasing… it could could only mean one thing. Merlin had already finished his assignment and although the tigers were calling his name, he was feeling particularly benevolent.

"Arthur," he called after he swiped the eraser across the paper like it had personally insulted insulted his mother.

He grunted.

"You need help?"

No answer.

"Arthur? I can help you if you like," Merlin sang, rolling over onto his back as he waited for an answer.

He didn't get one. "...Yes? No? Arthur? Math wiz here? Ready to serve justice and knowledge?"

"No, Merlin." Arthur's voice was curt and tense like a rubber-band pulled taught.

"Are you sure?" He asked, wriggling off the bedspread toward Arthur, "cause I already taught Gwen how to do it and I don't wanna brag, but she's an expert now. So. Arthur?"

One gentle hand smoothed over Arthur's shoulder as Merlin leaned over his desk, looking at the scattered papers black with rub outs.

It was quick. Like zero to sixty, like curling over the corner of a test paper, seeing an F and feeling your stomach drop.

"Merlin!" It's not the tender murmur of a lover or even the call of a friend. It's cold and hard and sharp like jagged ice. Merlin's hand snapped back as Arthur whipped around.

"How many _fucking_ times do I have to _fucking_ tell you?! I don't need your _fucking_ help!"

Merlin stepped back, eyes wide as Arthur returned to his work like nothing had happened. And indeed it had been so fast and so frightening that Merlin was tempted to believe that, too.

But his pounding heart was a testament he could not ignore. He was afraid.

Afraid to make a single sound.

Croaking floorboards, sighing bedsprings… he knew- he just _knew_ that the smallest sound would send Arthur screaming again, red faced, spit flying, a single second that lasted an eternity.

Even his breath seemed too loud. His eyes fell on the magazine he'd been reading just moments ago and the once exotic and ferocious tigers now looked one dimensional and bland, hiding behind glossy pages.

He stood there, how long? Perhaps years, watching dust particles twirl slowly through the sunlight that shone through the window. But he couldn't be a statue forever. Even though he took a shaky breath it felt like he was suffocating.

"I... um... I think I should go home now…?" He trembled.

"Yeah," Arthur sneered without looking up. "I think thats a good idea."

Merlin had no money for a cab. And he was too afraid to ask for it.

It took him forty-five minutes to walk home.

888

Sex turned out to be a whole lot messier than Merlin had expected.

It was comparable, in his humble opinion, to a slip 'n slide. There were enough fluids involved to make it feel like one, that was for sure.

He could still feel cool air tingling against his neck where Arthur had sucked it, and no doubt left his mark. Merlin's rapidly beating heart apparently couldn't help but freak out whenever Arthur touched his chest, his leg, his cheek… and thanks to it, his whole body was covered with slight sheen of sweat. But more importantly, so was Arthur, and he glistened whenever he moved, like he was coated in glitter, like he was Edward Fucking Cullen. But better. It might have been the sexiest thing Merlin had ever seen.

His cock was fully erect, and weeping for attention, pre-come sliding down his shaft in small beads. And he had no choice but to believe Arthur when he practically emptied the entire lube bottle into his hands and said with a sparkling grin, "Can't have too much."

Merlin wouldn't have argued with Arthur even if he had said he wanted to stuff peanut butter up his ass.

And then Arthur's hands were everywhere, gliding along the length of his heavy cock, squeezing at his sensitive balls, and Merlin remembered thinking that it was _so_ much better when it was someone else's hands…

His whole body was tingling with acute, unadulterated lust and he wished Arthur had a hundred hands to touch him with, a hundred mouths with which to kiss. He wished he was surrounded by four Arthurs, all pleasuring him senseless.

Arthur's hand was steadily pumping him, his thumb sweeping over the head of Merlin's cock and a bubbling warmth was building up in his stomach.

As per usual, Merlin had no idea what to do with his hands. More than anything, he wanted Arthur to be feeling just good, just as bliss-filled as he was- no, better- but he wasn't sure that was possible. And he sure as hell couldn't reach Arthur's dick from here. So instead, he gripped at Arthur's biceps as he hovered over him. Merlin could feel firm coils of muscle working under beautifully tanned skin and the thought of it drove him wild.

His hips were bucking in time with Arthur's fist, his back arched as he moaned Arthur's name, something that always seemed to inflate his ego to the point of sexual stimulation.

He was nearly there, lost in a haze of sex when Arthur abruptly stopped and bent down to kiss him through Merlin's mews of protest.

"Please," he murmured in a shaking voice, as their lips smooshed together, sharing breath and time and emotions, "please, Merlin, I want to fuck you. Let me fuck you. Please." He sucked the sweat from Merlin's earlobe as his fingers curled in his dark hair.

Gasping heavily, Merlin let his hips thrust, helplessly searching for some contact, but Arthur was too high above him.

Before, the thought of someone fucking him was, while enticing, also scary, and a little unnerving. Now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted Arthur inside him right now.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, Arthur, please…"

He gave a chilling groan and then Merlin felt teeth scraping along his outer ear. "Turn over," Arthur whispered huskily.

And Merlin obeyed, biting his lip, his pulse quickening.

Arthur repositioned himself, straddling firmly across his thighs. First there was nothing, and Merlin grabbed at a pillow, hugging it into his chest. Then he heard the sound of the lube bottle opening again, and Arthur's hands were back, slicker than ever before, running down the small of his back, over the swell of his arse. Arthur gave a tight squeeze, and then Merlin felt his arse cheeks slowly being pulled apart.

He supposed he could see what Arthur had meant about never having too much lube as one finger slipped inside him with ease. It was an odd feeling. Not exactly good, but not exactly bad, either. He wiggled his hips experimentally as Arthur's finger slowly worked out and back in.

"How's that?" he crooned. Merlin could feel his hot breath on his shoulder blades.

"Good," he fibbed, just a little, pushing out his ass a bit, as if to prove it.

So Arthur added another finger. There was a sharp bloom of pain, but only for a second. He grunted, and Arthur seemed to take it as pleasure. Lips descended on the back of his neck, kissing sloppily as his fingers steadily moved in and out.

"You are perfect," Arthur breathed, his tongue brushing so lightly against Merlin's skin that he shivered. "You are beautiful. So fucking beautiful… fuck, look at you…" There was a flash of teeth against his shoulder as Arthur bit down and sucked, and Merlin couldn't help but whimper at Arthur's territorial displays, at the feeling of his tongue slithering against his hot skin.

Arthur's mouth came up, and Merlin distinctly heard him whisper, "Mine."

"Yours," he agreed unbidden, and Arthur groaned, his fingers picking up speed, burrowing into him up to his knuckle.

And Merlin had to admit, the sensation was getting better. He found himself wanting more as he stretched around Arthur's fingers, his hips thrusting back to match Arthur's timing. Merlin felt the third finger join the other two with ease, and he groaned with the sensation of it filling his body.

"Fuck, Arthur," he trembled, feeling his stomach clench, feeling his cock throb in its need for attention, and he rutted gently against the mattress for some friction.

Arthur grabbed his hips. "Not yet," He demanded, "Not yet. Just hang on. Just hang on, we're almost there."

Lips, hot and wet on his upper back as Arthur kissed him, his fingers quickening, whispering sweetly about how Merlin was so gorgeous when he was desperate like this, so sexy when he was dying to have Arthur buried inside him.

It took years. Decades. Eons before Arthur finished peppering his back with kisses, before the thin layer of latex was rolled into place, before Arthur deemed Merlin ready and lined himself up at Merlin's hole.

He felt Arthur's length pushing inside him, at an agonizingly slow pace, pressing into his body, filling him entirely. He groaned loudly, letting his hands curl into the bedsheets as pushed his arse back.

"Fuck," Arthur whined, his hips giving sharp little thrusts, as his hands gripped tightly at Merlin's hips. "Fuck, Merlin, you're amazing. Fuck, you feel so good. I'm close…I'm so close..."

"Fuck me." Merlin begged, his cock so full he thought he might literally burst.

And Arthur did, his hips snapping back and forth violently, each thrust shoving him roughly into the mattress, giving his cock the much needed attention it was craving. He could feel the long building heat coiling like spring in his stomach.

He came hard and fast, pleasure washing over him like a waterfall, his face screwed up in pleasure as he gasped for air.

One, two, three more wild thrusts and he could feel Arthur come too, feel the pulsing of his dick inside him as Arthur threw back his head and gave a guttural moan.

There were a few more lazy thrusts, and Arthur's mouth was back on Merlin's ear, kissing haphazardly before he he fell to the side, panting.

He was hot and sweaty and gross, but Merlin curled right into his side, kissing his shoulder tenderly as he surfed on waves of bliss.

"You're pretty good at this sex thing I've been hearing about." He grinned. And it had been good. Fantastic, actually. Not that Merlin had a comparative basis.

Arthur grinned, breaths coming in quiet little puffs as his head flopped back heavily onto sighing pillows. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Oh, please, I just laid there."

"And you looked adorable doing it."

Snorting, Merlin burrowed his face into Arthur's neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex.

They lay silent, navy sheets and a golden passion both wrapped around their waists. Merlin's gut was full of a warm peacefulness, like all was right with the world and everyone was just where they should be.

Merlin's hand glided along Arthur's movie-smooth chest, still slick with seat. Sometimes, he was so impossibly perfect. He imagined the little blonde hairs that would one day sprout and a smile curled his lips at the thought of seeing them.

As if reading his thoughts, Arthur's warm lips pressed into his forehead where it was cradled into Arthur's neck.

"So," Merlin said, once he'd had his fill of the quiet, "I guess you were wrong."

"How's that?" Arthur purred, letting his eyes drift shut, letting his fingers skate gracefully over Merlin's shoulder.

"About being gay," he said with a grin, kissing Arthur's neck.

The change was immediate.

Arthur's hand froze. _He_ froze. The hazy post sex aura dissipated faster than fog in the sun.

"What are you talking about?" His voice was no longer feather soft but solid, hard, and full of steel. Taken aback, Merlin propped himself up on his elbows, looking down into eyes the color danger.

"I- when we first met…" he said hesitantly, "you said… you said you weren't gay…"

"Yeah, and?" He said it like a challenge, like a double dog dare, like a lion on his haunches.

"And we just had sex!" Merlin desperately trying to make sense of the whole thing.

"Yeah, well I'm not gay, _Mer_ lin." Arthur sneered, spitting the word out like a wad of tobacco and pushing Merlin off so he could sit up. The room felt strangely cold, and Merlin suddenly vulnerable and very naked as his stomach curled up like the edges of burning paper.

"But- oh." The world re-tilted onto its proper axis as things clicked into place. It was so obvious, no wonder Arthur was acting like this, how could Merlin not have seen it before now?

"You're bi!" he said, actually hitting himself in the forehead with his hand in exasperation.

"Yeah, right." Arthur snorted thickly as he got off the bed in a voice that suggested Merlin had been anything but.

"Arthur, please, I don't understand!" He watched with eyes that he refused- _refused_ \- to let fill up as Arthur yanked on his pants like they had done him a personal wrong.

"No. You don't," Arthur agreed with eyes bulging with accusations.

"Well explain it!" Merlin pleaded, crawling to the edge of the mattress.

"Don't forget, Merlin," Arthur growled as his shirt slipped over his head, "I'm the one who fucked you. Not the other way around."

"What?" Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "You've got to be kidding- !" But Arthur was already out the door, his keys clenched in a death grip in his hand.

"Arthur, Wait!" He called. Springing to the window, he saw Arthur stalk out Merlin's front door, swing onto his bike and take off like a shot, definitely breaking a few minor traffic laws in the process.

He flopped back on the bed, hands over his eyes. How had this happened?

It was Merlin's first time.

He never brought the subject up again.

888

"How's school going?"

"Fine."

"It can be tough starting over, I know."

"S'alright."

"You've been quiet lately. ...Everything okay?"

"Just tired."

"Because if there was something wrong…"

"I'm fine, mom."

"...you could tell me."

"I'll be upstairs. I've got a lot of homework to do."

888

"Could I, Ahh... Uhhh… small caramel uhh… macchiato? Um? Please?" Merlin said, feeling like a complete idiot.

"A tall?" The girl behind the counter had mastered the art of fake smiling. No one was that happy while making coffees for minimum wage. No one.

"Uhhhh… a small?" This was why he hated talking to people… Why couldn't they have one of those self-check out things?

The girl sighed with an air of having explained this a million and two times before. "The tall is a small (you idiot)."

 _Well, fuck me._

His face burned. "Oh. Okay, yeah." Anything to end this conversation.

She took his cash with practiced ease and left Merlin to shift around awkwardly by himself at the pick up counter.

Why did people like this place again?

Gay as he was, coffee houses and specialty coffees really weren't his thing. Especially ones that were ridiculously overpriced. He wouldn't have been there at all if Arthur hadn't insisted on meeting him there, that is to say, if Arthur hadn't insisted on both of them getting coffee at the same time, at the same place and conveniently bumping into each other.

"Arthur," Merlin had said when he had originally proposed the idea, "I think you're being a tad dramatic… We're friends, we're allowed to get coffee together."

"Humor me, Merlin," he had said, in a voice that meant he was getting exasperated.

So here Merlin was, sitting in the middle of a noisy cafe, pushing cold drops of coffee around the tabletop with his finger, waiting for his boyfriend to pretend to bump into him so they could be seen together in public.

Arthur arrived the exactly appropriate amount of minutes later to avoid any and all suspicion. Merlin watched him stroll in with a scarf wrapped artistically around his neck, red stained cheeks and white breaths puffing from plump lips. He determinedly made no eye contact as he charged to the front.

"Venti Mocha Latte." See? Why did it sound cool when _he_ said it? And the basista nearly jumped at the opportunity to caffeinate him. Merlin sighed and waited for the accidentally on purpose schtick to begin. He wasn't disappointed.

"Merlin!" The oh- so- casual tone prompted him to look up, "fancy seeing you here! Didn't think you were much of a Starbucks person!"

He wasn't. But Arthur stared at him, clearly waiting for some sort of reply other than a blank stare.

He shrugged.

"What a surprise…" Arthur was clearly pursuing the wrong profession. He was obviously meant to be an actor. Merlin looked back to the tabletop where he had begun tapping a sugar packet endlessly and Arthur seemed to sense he was low on patience.

"It's good you're here, really," he continued, one hand one the back of his neck, as he rocked on his heels, "cause I have your cleats in my car. You left them at my house."

Oh, right. Merlin's cleats. He just couldn't live without his trusty cleats.

"C'mon." Arthur started for the door without checking to see if Merlin was following. Which he was, resignedly.

It wasn't until Arthur was unlocking the door to his jeep that Merlin realized he'd forgotten his coffee inside. He was mildly disappointed. Not because he really wanted the coffee or anything, but because that fucking thing had cost like four bucks. He was gonna drink it, damn it. He glanced back the way they came. Was it worth it…?

"Get in," Arthur instructed as the door opened. Obediently, he did so, pulling the door shut after him. It was still warm from the drive over and Merlin snuggled back into the recline of the leather seat, done with the day.

Arthur rummaged around on the floor of the car before he came up with a small square packaged clumsily covered with newspaper and way too much scotch tape. "Here," He said, tipping it on to Merlin's lap, "I, um, just got you this thing."

"Funny," Merlin said tonelessly, "It doesn't look like my cleats…" He was annoyed the gesture, if he was being honest. He was annoyed with Arthur in general just now, after the stunt he pulled off two days ago, walking out on Merlin like that after their _first time_ together… making such a beautiful moment a painful and sore memory. Arthur had no business lavishing Merlin when he was angry.

"Please," Arthur said, pained. "Merlin, just, open it."

He did, with a heavy sigh that was swiftly silenced once the latest version of iPod tumbled out. Merlin blinked at it, stunned.

"Do you like it?" Arthur asked, anxiously. "I got it in green… I was pretty sure that's your favorite…"

"Arthur…" He was half stunned, half impressed, half confused and 100% losing his grip on math, "I can't accept this."

His face grew tight. "Yes, Merlin, you can. Please it's-"

"Arthur, this is like, $500 bucks. I can't take it."

"What? No, no, Merlin, please, it was barely above $200-"

"Arthur, I can't. That's too much! We haven't been going out that long!"

"No, Merlin, you deserve it, really. I was awful to you the other day, and I just have to say sorry."

The anger that had been swirling inside him was pricked like a balloon and he slowly deflated. Just hearing the apology, hearing that Merlin had been right all along, drained the anger from him. It was okay. But he still couldn't take the damn iPod. It was such an unfair gift! If Merlin scrimped and saved for months he'd never be able to get Arthur anything half as nice. They'd been pretend-dating a month. What would his anniversary gift be? A horse?

"Listen, I just can't- "

"It's just that," he leaned forward, biting at his lip, and then it all came out in a tumble like a stopper uncorked. "Uther is homophobic. He hates gay people. _Really_ hates them. He just goes on and on about how it's unnatural and disgusting and they need to be, well, and it's really... It's really hard to live there and listen to that constantly and I get really confused and angry and… and sometimes I think I hate him and it all just sort of builds up inside me and I just snap and I- I didn't mean to- I didn't mean what I said-"

Merlin stopped his shaking voice, quickly putting his hand over Arthur's. He'd never seen Arthur like this. Granted, he hadn't known him that long, but it shook him to see him so full of emotion, so close to losing it. He was always so perfectly controlled. It was almost like watching your mother cry.

"Arthur, Arthur, it's okay…" he said gently, "I accept your apology, but I can't take this." He gestured to the lapful of ipod, "It's just too much money,"

Arthur sat up, looking slightly hysterical. "No! Merlin! You have to! It's part of the apology! If you deny it, then you deny me! Please, I know it's a lot for you, but it's not for me! I promise I didn't spend a lot at all, I just want to say sorry, please!"

Over $200 was not not a lot in any book, in Merlin's opinion. But Arthur looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Okay, okay, I'll take it, just calm down…" Merlin soothed, stroking his hand up Arthur's thick arm.

"God," he whispered weakly, "I don't deserve you, Merlin." He captured his hand and kissed it, pressing it against his cheek. "I really don't. You are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

And Merlin couldn't help melting.

"So… so your dad..? He's um…anti-gay?" he probed, as Arthur wove their fingers together, moving their entangled fingers into his lap.

Arthur snorted. "That's the understatement of the year." He muttered under his breath. His next words were a whisper. "Merlin… he can't ever know about us."

"What would happen?"

"I think… I think he'd kill me."

From anyone else, Merlin would have laughed at the blatant hyperbole. Now, his eyebrows shot up as he waited for the other shoe to drop. There was none. Arthur was dead serious.

Surely he was exaggerating! Surely he was just too close to the situation to see it clearly!

"Arthur, he's your dad! He wouldn't _kill_ you!"

He shook his head. "He's not my dad."

"What…?"

"I mean, biologically he is. He donated some sperm, big whoop. But Merlin, he's… he's not. I don't wanna talk about this." His face had grown hard and lined, like he had aged forty years from the teen who'd been kissing his hand not a moment ago.

"Okay." He murmured, letting one hand move to curl into the hairs on his neck, leaning across the divider in the middle to get to those full, soft, waiting lips…

Arthur stopped him with a firm hand braced on Merlin's chest, their mouths two planetary bodies just about to collide.

"Wait," he whispered. "Not here." He pulled back. Starting the car up, he pulled out of the spot, but not before shooting Merlin a grin. "I think a re-do of last week is in order. Our first time needs to be special. Unforgettable. You want to come to mine?"

Merlin returned the grin with an upped ante. "Fuck, yes."

888

"Hmm..." Merlin pursed his lips, forehead furrowed in an obviously deep and philosophical thought about the universe and its intricate workings. "Well, obviously, it's meant to be one of those unanswerable questions with no real solution... but if you insist on forcing my hand here, than... I'd have to say Picard. He has that whole sexy intelligence thing going on. And he looks like he'd be a gentle lover."

By his feet, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Okay, first of all, I only asked if you'd pass the popcorn, you dork."

Merlin pulled a confused face. "Yes, I know."

Arthur ignored him, but his eyes twinkled. "Second of all, you're insane! Kirk is _clearly_ the better shag. He never does anything half-assed, especially when they are as sexy as yourself." Merlin's feet, which were resting on Arthur's lap, were given playful toe wiggles.

Giggling like a madman in love, Merlin passed the popcorn bowl, which Arthur snatched from him greedily, muttering under his breath. "Picard… honestly…what shit taste in men."

"Alright, then," Merlin said, his attention fully diverted from the Star Trek marathon that was flashing on screen, "You would have Kirk?"

"Well, yeah, between the two of them, but out of everyone? Honestly? I'd take Spock."

Merlin's eyes bulged. "Spock? You're joking."

Arthur shook his head. "Hell no. He's all tall dark and handsome… stoic as shit but you just know he's ripped under that uniform. The ears are a big turn on, too. Plus, he's got that super intelligence thing going on… he could probably, like, find the best mathematical angle to fuck you at and just completely drive you mental. He reminds me a lot of you, actually."

Merlin blushed and nudged Arthur's shoulder with one socked-clad foot. Grinning, Arthur grabbed it, placing one slow and heated kiss on his ankle. A whole new appreciation for ankle kisses bloomed in Merlin as his cheeks blossomed pink. He had no idea they could be so sexy.

"You know… I have to say I was wrong… I very much like your taste in men."

Merlin grinned. "I have to say I'm quite partial myself." And he'd been just about to crawl over onto Arthur's lap and have the living daylights kissed out of him when Arthur steadfastly put down his foot and sighed heavily. Merlin could hear it as clearly as a neon sign reading, 'Shit storm approaching!'

"What?" He asked, what is it?"

"Nothing… just that Uther comes home from business this week."

"Oh." Merlin's eyebrows drew together. "Is… that bad?"

Arthur shrugged noncommittally. "He's going to come to one of my games. Homecoming, probably"

Merlin nodded. "Hey, that's great!" They hadn't talked about his father since Arthur swore he'd kill him if he found out about Arthur's love of cock, but even so Merlin could tell that this was important to Arthur. So he kept his responses vague.

"Yeah. He's never seen me play before."

"Well, this season."

"No, ever."

"Arthur, you've got to be kidding. He's _had_ to see you play at _some_ point."

"Okay, he did come to this one little league game when I was like, six, maybe. I remember being all proud because he had to take time off work to come see me and it was a big deal, or something."

Merlin nodded encouragingly, after some hesitation, Arthur continued, playing with a fraying hole over Merlin's right big toe. "So... I was playing extra hard. I used every trick in the book." He snorted. "Considering that I was six, there wasn't that many tricks, but I had invented this… this dumb sort of… I dunno how to even describe it. A sort of… spin kick. It was completely useless, but I was convinced it was grade A stuff, that I looked like a professional footballer when i did it. Anyway. I had the ball, and I was trying to show off, you know, for Uther, so I did this... unstoppable spin move of death, and, uh, the ball got stolen from me and I basically lost us the game. Uther said he was disappointed, and… that was the last game he went to."

Merlin blinked. "Arthur, you can't be serious. One game? When you were _six?_ " he didn't even mention how adorable inventing an unstoppable spin move of death was, or how ridiculous it was to be disappointed in a child for having fun on the field.

"He's busy, Merlin. You wouldn't get it."

"Alright, alright, he's busy. But you've been playing, like, what? at least 11 years? He couldn't find- "

"Can we just drop this?" It was a snap. Merlin jumped. Just a little. That's how Arthur was. He opened the door long enough for you to see him suffering on the other side and then as soon as you tried to step inside, _wham!_ It shut in your face. He'd pursue, but Arthur's tone made it so final, so clearly over with…

Merlin leaned back, arms crossed tight over his chest. He turned back to the screen where Kirk was wrestling a badly costumed alien to the ground. He watched, but he didn't see. He didn't want Arthur to start yelling again. He just wanted to go back to five minutes ago when the only thing they were arguing about was which Star Trek character was the best lay. Shit, Merlin had never asked for this! He wasn't the one to bring it up! Why mention it if he wasn't going to-

"Hey," Arthur's hand was back on his ankle, as warm and inviting as the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm just… really on edge right now." He squeezed Merlin's foot. "I love that you're here. I love that you're so supportive. I don't know what I'd do without you in my life."

Merlin couldn't help the smile that came over him, pulling at his lips like those things the orthodontists use to force your mouth open.

"It's alright," He said, drooling like a puppy for some warm affection. He held his arms open. "Just get over here so we can snuggle."

And Arthur did.

888

Homecoming. Apparently this was sort of a big deal if you were on a soccer team. Or if you were the boyfriend of someone on the footie team. Which was apparent by the size of the screaming crowd all around him.

The infatuated, love-sick puppy that he was, he'd attended every game, pretending to understand what was happening, his eyes stuck on the gorgeous blonde who always seemed to be in the middle of the action. Normally the stands were fairly populated, but tonight they were packed, like the entire school had decided to start caring about soccer on the same day.

But all the same, he was quite glad to have some company in the stands. Nestled between Gwen and Morgana, and surrounded by other screaming, cheering fans, it quite transformed the atmosphere of the game. In a heated moment, hot chocolate clutched in his hands, cheeks flushed against the chill, screaming at the top of his lungs with a hundred others to _"Run! Go! Go, go go!"_ Merlin could finally understand why some people actually enjoyed sports.

All of them were united, a bubbling unstoppable force that left Merlin feeling fully energized.

"My God, this is exhilarating." Merlin breathed as he sat again, throat a little sorer.

"Merlin," Gwen said, a laugh peeking through her words, "you go to like, every game."

"Yeah, okay, but it's not always this exciting!"

It was true that this was a particular nailbiter. After two lucky shots in the first ten minutes of the game, Camelot had been scrambling to catch up ever since. They'd only just managed to pass their opponent.

To his left, Morgana shrugged. "They're never nail biters, really. Camelot will win. They have Arthur."

Merlin sent her a questioning look and she elaborated.

"Arthur doesn't tolerate losing. Camelot was last in the league before he came on the team and ever since they've been undefeated."

Gwen let out a noise of admiration.

"Yeah, I had no idea," Merlin agreed.

Morgana laughed. "She didn't mean about Arthur. She was checking out Lance's butt."

Merlin snorted, his gaze torn from number 35 sprinting down the field. "How's that going, Gwen?"

"Fabulously," Morgana answered for her, "Lance is utterly obsessed with her."

Gwen blushed, and Merlin grinned. He was so happy she found someone she liked so completely, especially with his own whirlwind romance.

"You know," Morgana said, tilting her head sideways as she squinted out onto the field, "it does have some very substantial appeal to it. Round, shapely, firm… probably. What do you think, Merlin?"

"What are we talking about?"

"Lance's butt. Come on, we need your input, who's got the best butt?"

Girls were so weird.

Gwen grinned mischievously, giving Merlin's shoulder a little push. "There's no point in asking him _that,_ Morgana. We all know Merlin likes Arthur's butt best."

"What? Oh, come on, Arthur and I are just friends!"

Gwen and Morgana shared a secret girl look.

"Okay," Gwen said while Morgana looked away.

He huffed and took a sip of his hot chocolate, fiddling with its thin plastic lid. He was half annoyed at the stereotype, half very annoyed that everyone close to him seemed to already know he was going out with Arthur when he was trying so bloody hard to keep it a secret.

"Can't a gay guy have straight friends without everyone assuming-"

Suddenly everyone was standing again. "Go!" a man behind them was screaming as Arthur himself, winner of the best butt award, headed the ball right toward the goal. Three opposing team members stood between them, and Merlin was sure that he'd never make it.

But he was wrong.

In one fluid movement, Arthur seemed to spin right through them, as easily as if he were water through an open flood gate. It was like the other team hadn't even tried. It was so quick, Merlin could barely keep track of it. His leg cocked back and then almost instantaneously black and white had hit the net. The poor goalie never stood a chance.

"He really _is_ good," Merlin said as cheers erupted once more.

" _Good_?" At his elbow, Morgana was scoffing, not having even bothered to get up, "Merlin, you really don't know anything about soccer, do you?"

888

"Ready, Merlin?"

He really, really wasn't. He wasn't much of a partier, and Gwaine's annual homecoming bash had been hyped up to the point of disbelief. But, Merlin knew how excited Arthur was for it. Plus, the rest of the team would be there, so he'd definitely know at least a few people. It wouldn't be all that bad. After all, he'd gotten through that first one basically alone. And that second one…

When Arthur swung by to pick him up for the party, Merlin was surprised to swing into Arthur's sleek convertible only to be slapped in the face with the sweet scent of alcohol.

"Arthur!" he gasped, horror struck "Did you drive here tipsy? What is wrong with you?" He felt what little excitement he had quickly turn to shock and confusion. This wasn't something Arthur would do. Was it?

"I'm pre-gaming, Merlin!" he said by way of explanation, just a tad too loud to be normal. "And I'm _fine_. I wouldn't have driven over if I wasn't. Come on, get in."

Merlin stomped over to the drivers side. "Move over." he commanded, "I'm driving. And _never_ do that again! You're lucky you didn't break your goddamn neck. Or someone else's!"

Arthur sighed loudly, loudly enough to make sure Merlin caught his dramatic eye roll, but luckily didn't put up a fight about giving up the wheel.

Conversation on the way over was, at first, nonexistent. On Merlin's part, due to the fact that he was absolutely terrified of scratching, crashing, bumping or otherwise harming this beautiful car that he was sure cost more than his college tuition.

So, let it suffice enough to say that he drove like his grandmother's grandmother in a ice storm on planet molasses. Any driver's ed teacher would have wept with joy. Arthur, for his part, stayed equally quiet, gazing out the window gloomily, and only spoke when Merlin prompted him for directions.

It was only when Merlin parked on Gwaine's street (heaving a giant sigh of relief in the process) that Arthur suddenly spoke. Indeed, Merlin was so used to his surely silence (no doubt induced in equal parts by safe driving procedures and alcohol) that he nearly jumped, despite his quiet register that barely punctuated the relieved pounding of Merlin's heart.

"Did you see him?"

"What, Arthur? I'm keeping these, by the way." His voice definitely had a bitter edge as he pocketed Arthur's keys.

"Did you see him? My father. At the game." His face was determinedly facing forward, not looking at Merlin, not looking at anything, but staring straight ahead like a dead man. He was sitting so still he might have been dead were it not for the tenseness in his muscles, they way his shoulders were wound tight, his fist squeezed shut like he was crushing a small bird in his hand.

Suddenly the silence and the drinking and the reckless behavior all made sense.

Merlin blanched, wanting to be able to say the right thing. It felt like his job to make things better but he just… a good friend- a good _boyfriend_ would know what to say. He was letting Arthur down. He deserved better. Merlin really wished he had some better material than,

"Arthur… I don't even know what he looks like."

But Arthur just snorted. "You would have recognized him. He would have been the one with the giant stick up his arse."

"I-I'm sorry. Maybe something came up?"

Arthur snorted dismissively, like he didn't give half a shit what Merlin had to say on the subject. Merlin's feelings smarted.

"Let's just do this." Arthur sneered, stepping out of the car with long legs and striding up the walk without a backwards glance. Merlin knew it wasn't Arthur's fault. He knew Arthur was just upset. He knew Arthur didn't really mean to be short with him. He knew...

The door swung open. Gwaine stood there, a bottle of vodka half empty in his hand. Merlin hitched up his grin like a pantsed man hitches up his trousers.

"Gwaine!" he greeted cheerfully, "Goodness, you're getting a good start on things."

Gwaine grinned. "Not driving anywhere, am I?"

"Well I hope you're at least sharing that."

"Be nice to me and I might be persuaded." he winked at Merlin suggestively. "And how about you, Princess, can I get you a drink?"

After the release of those needlessly provocative team photos that hailed Arthur as 'King'

Gwaine had adopted the purposefully contrary nickname of 'Princess,' seeeingly to no other end than to annoy.

Arthur, who didn't take this well on the best of days (soccer guys and their macho alpha shit...) muscled past Gwaine and into the house so forcefully the clear liquid in Gwaine's bottle sloshed around noisily.

"What's his problem?" Gwaine asked Merlin, an incredulous look on his face. Luckily nothing was better for taking the fighting spirit out of Gwaine than females and alcohol.

Merlin sighed. "Come on, let me inside and I'll tell you."

Inside, Gwaine's house was comfortingly less ornate than Arthur's, sporting familiar off-white paint and furniture from IKEA which was currently chock full of party-goers. Music was thumping through the floorboards in what was quickly, Merlin realized, becoming a familiar manner.

Thankfully, this party seemed mercifully smaller than the others Merlin had attended, populated mostly by the players, the cheerleaders, the marching band, and their friends. Gwaine led Merlin through the crowd into the living room, where the Gwaine's closest friends (sans Arthur) seemed to have conquered a corner for their own personal use.

"Merlin!" Leon greeted cheerfully. "Glad you're here!"

"Yeah," Merlin smiled at his genuine excitement, "I was at the game, too. You all did fabulously."

That set off a round of cheering and toasting for the them, Gwaine taking a swig from his bottle as he tugged Merlin down to sit next to him on the floor.

Percy seemed the only one not taking an equally exuberant part in the festivities. His usual bulk was compacted- his arms wrapped around his calves his glum face on his knees.

"C'mon Perce, cheer up, mate!" Elyon, left wing defence, was saying "we still won the game."

"Yeah," Leon chipped in, "everyone knows Mercia's defence is, like, legendary. You're still the best goalie we've ever had."

Percy shrugged.

"No one blames you for those first two goals. We still won, didn't we?"

Percy scowled, "if it hadnt been for Arthur's goals..." Elyon opened his mouth indignantly, probably to remind them of his own goal, and that, hello, Arthur hadn't won the game single-handedly, but Merlin didn't get to hear it. Gwaine had leaned in close. "Speaking of Arthur..." he said, breath hot, "there's a swig of Vodka in it for you of you tell me

who shoved the stick up his arse."

Merlin hated to talk about Aethir behind his back... But these guys were his best friends! They had to have some sort of insight on how to...cheer Arthur up. And Merlin was in dire need of insight. "well, I suppose you must know about his relationship with his dad."

"Well, I've managed to glean a few obvious things, yes," Gwaine muttered, passing over the bottle even though Merlin's tale had just begun.

He took a deep swing of the clear liquid but wished he hadn't as he throat began to burn. Gagging, he passed the bottle back. Gwaine grinned, but mercifully said nothing.

"Anyway," Merlin said still trying to catch his breath, "He came home from a business trip a few days ago and he was supposed to go to the game today, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Gwaine stopped him with a wave of his hands. "Merlin, how on earth do you know all this?"

"Umm… Arthur told me?"

"Arthur told you? He specifically said 'my dad is coming home and he's coming to the game?'" His wide eyed look was accompanied by a tone half skeptical half amazed. Whatever reaction Merlin had been expecting it wasn't that.

"Umm... Not in those exact words..."

"But he definitely mentioned his dad? Like specifically? He said 'my dad'? Those words left his mouth?"

"Gwaine, what-?"

"Merlin?" He rose his eyebrow with a coolness that didn't seem to match the edge in his voice.

"I- I think he said 'Uther' not 'dad' but yeah."

Gwaine let out a low whistle and Merlin got annoyed with the whole mystery act. "You guys have been friends since freshman year. You're telling me you've never met the man?"

Gwaine snorted. "Met the man? I- Shit,sometimes I forget you just got here. Merlin, Arthur doesn't talk about his dad. No, that doesn't even cover it.

I don't mean Arthur's a bit shy when it comes to the origin of his Y chromosome. I'm not saying he and his daddy don't see eye to eye and Arthur doesn't like to have heart to hearts about it. I'm saying he's _never_ mentioned him. The words 'dad' or 'father' or 'Uther' or any version of 'the man who knocked up my mother' has never left his lips. Not even in passing. He might as well not exist. I don't even know how to tell you- hey. Perce."

Gwaine smacked the shoulder of the man next to him and Percy glowered at the use of his nickname, but his expression grew solemn when he heard Gwanie's question.

"You ever heard Arthur mention his dad?"

"Come off it, Gwaine, course not."

Merlin blinked. "But- but that's impossible! He's some big shot business tycoon!"

"Is he?" Gwaine shrugged. "Makes sense since he's never been around whenever I've been at Arthur's house."

"Leon!" Merlin said, unable to absorb this new information, "Leon, you've been friends with Arthur since forever right?"

"Since we were eight!" he said proudly, coming out of his conversation with Elyon as both heads turned toward him.

"Ever meet his dad?"

Leon looked thoughtful. "No actually, but Arthur used to mention him sometimes. Said he was going to come to this or that game of ours. Seemed really proud cause I think he's supposed to be this professional hotshot- no idea what he does, though. Course he never actually came to any games and then Arthur stopped talking about him altogether."

Elyon leapt into the conversation, the whole group focused on this one topic now. "It's like this, Merlin. You could go up to a group of Bigfoot hunters and be like 'one day I'm going to see Arthur's dad' and _they'd_ laugh at _you_."

"And you guys... You guys never bothered to ask?"

"Please. None of us are that stupid."

Percy grinned. "But not all of us are smart enough to not ask Morgana..."

Gwaine smacked his arm, harder this time. "Shut up."

The group laughed simultaneously, leaving Merlin to catch up. "What? You asked Morgana? What happened?"

"She said," Gwaine sighed, "and I quote 'bring it up again and I'll cut off your balls.' she's some woman, Morgana."

"She'd likely to flay you as screw you."

"Hey! I like a woman who can take care of herself!"

"What you mean is that Gwaine likes a chase."

"No, I think he just wants to be whipped if you know what I mean..."

"Make fun if you must, gentlemen, but you won't hear me complaining about getting more ass than the lot of you put together!"

"Oh stuff it."

"Yeah, we get plenty of ass!"

"That time you grabbed my arse doesn't count, Elyon."

Elyon blushed furiously. "I told you a million times! I tripped!"

"sure..."

"Sho tripped?" a new voice broke into the conversation and Merlin looked up to see Arthur looming over their circle. He still looked annoyed, but less so now, perhaps because Lance was at his side. Percy immediately went back to sulking, and Arthur's sharp eyes flashed as he

noticed.

"Elyon." Merlin supplied. "Apparently he landed on Gwaine's ass."

"Oh, you can all go fuck yourselves!"

The joking under Arthur's gaze was slightly subdued however, like the chaperone had just showed up. There was a beat of awkward silence before Merlin spoke up again. "Great job today, Lance. Gwen and I were watching from the stands."

Lance instantly brightened. "Gwen was watching?"

"Percy." Arthur said grimly. Percy looked up, and everyone tensed. "Good work with those saves." Arthur said finally. "Mercia's offense was really good." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Elyon patted the carpet. "Sit down, you two."

Lance did at once, eagerly accepting the bottle Gwaine passed him.

Arthur however remained standing. "I forgot my phone. Merlin, can I borrow yours for a sec?" he asked

with meaningful look at the dark haired teen.

"Sure." He agreed easily, rising up from their circle and stepping over Leon to get to Arthur instead of just handing over his phone. If anyone thought it was odd, no one mentioned it. Merlin didn't hear conversation resume until he and Arthur had left the room.

No one spared them a second glance as Arthur led him upstairs, away from the others. What he really wanted Merlin never found out because Arthur seemed to run out of steam halfway there.

He leaned against the wall, sighing heavily, one hand swiping against a face shrouded in darkness without the help of hallway lights.

"That was really nice." Merlin said quietly, "What you said to Percy. He was really upset about those goals."

"Didn't say anything that wasn't true." Arthur muttered.

"Still." As close as the team was, as much as they joked, Arthur was more to them than just a friend. He was their leader. Their authority. He single-handedly brought the team up from obscurity and made them legends. One approving word from him, one disappointed look, was everything.

They would follow him straight into hell. And Merlin knew that he would, too. The amazing truthfulness of this realization was still running through him as Arthur straightened up, continued forward, and turned the knob of the left-most door.

It didn't turn, but Arthur didn't seem perturbed. He muttered something like, "not this time, Gwaine..." before taking a hairpin out of his jeans pocket and, bending down close like he was

speaking to a child, stuck it into the lock.

"I didn't know you could pick locks!" Merlin said, surprised.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Merlin. I'm a man of mystery." He winked and Merlin bit his lip.

"It's kinda sexy. Very bad-boy. I bet you jaywalk, too."

Arthur grunted.

But a few mere seconds later the novelty had worn off, and Merlin grew nervous. "Umm... I don't think he wants us in there...?" He said hesitantly, but Arthur brushed him off.

"My God, could you grow a fucking pair? You said it was sexy two seconds ago!"

"It is, but-"

"Ha!" The door swung open.

They were met with the messy innards of a teenage room. Clothes and empty sport drink bottles lay haphazardly around the room, watched by the hedonistic stares of the half naked women adorning the walls. It was a bit unnerving, to be honest. The plaid bedspread of a modest twin was throw back in its unmade state, curtains pulled in tight lest any sunshine squeeze through (although there was no fear of that at the moment). In the corner was a duffle bag, full of cleats and gym clothes (unwashed, given the scent).

Arthur closed the door behind them, and for a second they stood aimlessly, admiring the mess.

"So… you wanted to show me what? a naked lady?"

"Of course not." Arthur pressed him against the wall, his hands warm and inviting on Merlin's hips, his chest wide and firm, pressed against Merlin's.

It felt a little weird being in Gwaine's room without Gwaine, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold onto this thought because Arthur's rough lips descended onto his own before he could get another word out. A pleasantly warm tingling unfurled low in his stomach as teeth scraped along his lower lip. Insistent, a hand slid slowly up his side, squeezing his ribcage before fingers brushed over pink nipples. And really, that was all it took.

He was utter mush against the wall, but it was alright because Arthur had taken it upon himself to hold Merlin up. His hands had somehow wound up pinned above his head, his two thin wrists fitting easily in one of Arthur's tanned hands. His knee had nudged its way between Merlin's docile thighs and Merlin just barely restrained himself from rutting against it. But Arthur seemed to realize his desires as he let loose a throaty laugh in Merlin's ear that caused him to shutter.

"Tell me what you want." He demanded, biting into Merlin's earlobe so hard he thought Arthur might draw blood.

"Touch me," Merlin pleaded, his back arching toward Arthur, his hips wriggling like a worm on a hook.

"So fucking eager," Arthur sneered, even as his hand worked open the button on Merlin's jeans, "you're such a fucking little slut. You know what, don't you?"

"Yes…" The second part of the word dragged out into a hiss as a hand closed tight around his hot member, already half hard with arousal. One, two, three dry pumps has Merlin squealing, his head bumping back painfully on a wall he'd forgot existed. Arthur's hard grip was quick to follow him, and his hand closed roughly over Merlin's lips, just enough to hurt.

Merlin knew his role. His tongue poked out along with a shuddered breath, quickly slicking Arthur's hand with his saliva, giddy with anticipation.

He groaned when Arthur's touch returned to his cock, now hot and slick, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to Merlin's eyes, and, finally, he began to move.

"Fuck," Merlin gasped, "Fuck, Arthur!" His hips enthusiastically rocked to match his movements, pleasure building quickly behind his navel.

Arthur snorted. "You're so fucking easy to please… shit… look at you." But his voice was laced with effort as he tried not to pant.

Merlin thought he would come just by looking at Arthur's gorgeous face bobbing over his, gazing down at him in beautiful disdainful fury. But he never wanted this feeling, like being pushed to the edge of a cliff, to end. He screwed his eyes up tight in response, but that didn't block out the feeling of sharp teeth on his collarbone, the huffs and puffs that splashed rhythmically against his neck. With his lower lip sucked in between Arthur's teeth he bit down until Merlin's mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood, his periodic grunts coming faster and faster as the coil wound tightly inside him, ready to spring…

He was dumped unceremoniously to the ground, Arthur's heated thigh pulled out from under him, and arse met floor.

Rubbing the back of his head, Merlin looked up with a wince to find Arthur looming over him, straight-faced.

"On the bed."

Merlin's eyes widened. "But… but Arthur, this isn't… Gwaine's-"

Arthur bent down, his impassive face next to Merlin's ear as he growls, "On. The bed. Now."

Merlin scrambled to comply, flinging himself onto the unmade covers face down, like he knew Arthur liked him. Arthur's hands gripped the top of his jeans and in one swift movement they were swept from his legs along with his underwear. His heart beat frantically against his ribs. His nerves felt aware of even the smallest of changes, the feel of the sheets against his throbbing erection, the cool air that misted over his naked bum, and the warm, sleek palms that gripped his arse cheeks tightly, gently massaging. The box springs creak as a familiar weight settled behind him.

Arthur's fingernails dig into Merlin's pale hips, pulling him up onto his knees. Having shucked his own clothes while Merlin was flinging himself onto the bed, Arthur's own hard length settled nicely in the swell of Merlin's arse, and he gave a choked off groan as his hips gave an experimental little thrust. "Shit, Merlin," his voice was throaty and tinged with lust, "Shit… take this off." He yanked at Merlin's shirt, and he was quick to scramble out of it and toss it aside.

Immediately he was rewarded with Arthur's hands smoothing up the expanse of his back, sending his body into shivers that ran from head to toe. His wet lips mouthed at the soft nape of Merlin's neck as he bent over Merlin, chest to back. Soft hands turned to wicked claws that pulled slowly down Merlin's sides, no doubt leaving blushed red lines in their wake.

"Grab the headboard." He growled, biting hard on Merlin's ear, "grab the- _fuck_ , yes, oh _fuck_ you look so fucking good, just ready to be taken, aren't you? Rode into the fucking ground."

The only response he can muster his a weak whimper. Arthur's torso suddenly bent sideways and Merlin could hear a drawer being opened and Arthur rummaging around in it.

"C'mon Gwaine… you horny bastard.." he grumbled, followed by a triumphant, "Ha!"

There was some scuffling, and the distinct sound of Arthur slicking up his hands with lube and rolling on a condom. Then a slippery finger breeched him swiftly, without any preamble. The world seemed to tilt on his axis. Merlin let out a long groan, pressing back into his hand, his sweaty palms making it harder to grip the headboard.

Arthur was quick about preparing him, wasting no time in being polite. This was not going to be a lovemaking session. Merlin was about to fucked, hard, and he tingled at the thought of it, his forgotten dick curled against his stomach, desperately wanting attention. He wanted to be mounted, he wanted to be used… he wanted Arthur's fat dick inside him, spreading his hole and filling him up. Arthur… an involuntary whimper left his lips, and Arthur increased the pace his his fingers, rocking them in and out quickly.

Once his third finger slipped inside him, Merlin knew what would come next. He spread his knees, bracing himself in preparation. Arthur rubbed the head of his cock over his entrance once before lining up and pushing in with a strong thrust.

Merlin let out a loud cry that matched Arthur's as his thick cock stretched him, causing a low burn that was both painful and wonderful. But Arthur left no time for adjusting. He gripped Merlin's hip bones tightly, and the room was soon filled with the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

Again and again, Arthur's hips rammed balls deep into Merlin with such force that the bed rhythmically slammed against the wall.

"Fuck, fuck…" Arthur's voice was strangled above the frantic sounds of them fucking. "Merlin, fuck, you feel so amazing. Shit! Tell me how good my dick feels inside you. Tell me how much you love this."

"Arthur…" he managed to get out, "Aahh… Oh, you feel amazing. Ah! Your cock feels so good, oh! so thick and hot inside me- ah! Oh! Fuck me, fuck me harder!"

His pace increased, his hips snapping back and forth, angling slightly to find the sweet spot that turned Merlin's limbs to jelly.

"You fucking love this, don't you?" Arthur panted, his fingernails deep in Merlin's hips, as he drove mercilessly into Merlin's body, "Can't get enough of my fucking cock… Shit, you little slut. You're mine, aren't you? Say my name!"

"Arthur…"

"Louder!"

"Arthur! Fuck! Arthur, Arthur!"

Merlin felt the familiar unsteady staccato rhythm that meant Arthur was close to the edge, close to spending himself into Merlin. They were, after all, teenagers, and, with the expasterating frequency of their lovemaking, Merlin had become quite familiar with Arthur's routine, the natural flow of how their bodies fit together. But then came a sensation that was not so familiar.

Flushed, calloused hands closed around the milky white expanse of his pale throat, fingers bending in until he could feel the bite of fingernails. And the loss of air.

"Arr…" Was all he could get out before he was choking for air, mouth desperately sucking in air that wasn't getting to his lungs. Immediately he began to panic, adrenaline coursing through his body, telling him what he already knew: _Get air, get air, get air!_

His hands flew from the headboard to his neck, but it was like pulling at stone... Arthur had at least half a stone of pure muscle on him. Behind him, his hips did not so much as pause, continuing to rut wildly as the edges of Merlin's vision blurred.

With a loud cry, Arthur gave a final last thrust and let go, allowing Merlin to collapse, gasping, onto the sheets, his rapidly beating heart quickly distributing the oxygen he was so greedily sucking in.

Arthur gave a triumphant little chuckle that floated above Merlin's labored breaths like a bird in a storm. He whipped around as best as he could, given that his hips were trapped firmly beneath Arthur's.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" he demanded, voice cracking somewhat. "Arthur, what the _fuck!"_

Arthur ran a hand though sweaty bangs that were, even now, heart-breakingly attractive. He rolled his eyes. "Merlin, come on, it was erotic asphyxiation." He shrugged. No big deal.

"Arthur you can't- you can't just do that! You didn't even- ! Without any warning- !"

His eyebrows creased together, like he honestly did not see the problem. "Merlin, I thought you'd like it. You're into rough sex, yeah?"

Merlin's cheeks flushed- from anger or embarrassment, he didn't know. "Well, yeah, but you can't just _choke_ me, Arthur, fuck! I didn't agree to that! We don't even having a fucking safeword!"

"Oh, fuck that, we don't need a fucking safeword, don't be a pussy."

"Arthur!"

"Look, would you lay off?" He swung his leg off Merlin, rummaging for his pants on the floor, "So you didn't like it. I won't do it again, Jesus, calm the fuck down!"

"You need to warn me before you do something like that, okay? We have to _agree!_ "

"Merlin, my dick was deeply buried in your arse. I kinda took that as consent!" A shirt slipped over chiseled abs.

"You still have to tell me! Fuck, Arthur! And from now on our safeword is 'casserole'!"

Arthur scoffed. "It is fucking not." He combed his hair flat with his fingers, sparing a quick glance in the mirror. "Look, when you're done flipping out like a _girl_ , come downstairs."

Merlin had almost forgotten about the party going on. It seemed suddenly inconsequential. His head was pounding, his body sore… he was angry and upset, and ready to go home.

Arthur paused on the way out the door to glance back at his lover. "Just wait like ten minutes okay? Don't want anyone getting suspicious."

888


	2. Chapter 2

**This was going to be longer. Sorry I'm shit.**

* * *

Warm hands. Warm blankets. A warm hazy sheen draped over his brain. Merlin was in a cocoon of pleasure, lying on a mattress of goosefeathers, and surrounded by white sheets fit for a detergent commercial. The god of sex himself hovered Merlin, straddling his hips with sculpted, tanned thighs (how does one even go about getting a tan in that location?). The latest excuse to get Merlin upstairs and into his bed was playing in the background, because Arthur was far too proud to say, "I'm incredibly attracted to you and I want to shag you four ways till next Tuesday." No; with him it was always, "Oh, Merlin, come up to my room and listen to the new 'We the Kings' album…"

And although it wasn't half bad, Merlin was not paying it even the slightest mind. Arthur's hot mouth was biting down on his collarbone and all he could really hear was every ounce of blood in his body rushing south.

Today, Arthur was tender; sweet like candy and soft like a whisper. They'd just had a nasty fight the day before but Merlin couldn't help but think that every single hurtful word had been well worth it to get to this point.

His name fell from Arthur's lips like a prayer. He was touched like an idol, worshipped in kisses, lavished in the endless praise the flowed from Arthur. _Oh my god, Merlin, you're so beautiful. So sexy. So gorgeous. Oh god. Oh Jesus, fuck, I love you. I love you so much. You're perfect. Fuck, perfect, oh, fuck, so beautiful…_

Adulation streamed from him like he couldn't hold it back, a bubbling brook of compliments that sounded more like music than the actual music playing. The words settled around his brow like a crown. Even though he was flat on his back with his legs spread open, it felt like he was King of the world, dripping in ruby kisses and amethyst love bites.

Arthur only quieted when his tongue was otherwise occupied, brushing against Merlin's or climbing the pale underside of his jaw. Merlin rewarded him affably for his devotion, giving delighted gasps when Arthur hit a sensitive spot, lustful moans when Arthur's words made him shiver.

Merlin's own hands swept up the broad expanse of Arthur's chest, gliding through sparse golden hairs, the hot skin under his fingers both hard with muscle of manhood and yet silky smooth with the inexperience of youth. Perfection. His palms kissed Arthur's ribs on their way to the wide plains of his back, eager to taste every inch; Arthur was a buffet and Merlin was a man starved. His hands tangled in the shirt still rudely keeping Arthur from venerating eyes. This, and some thin cotton pants were the only physical barriers that separated two hungry bodies. Merlin longed to feel the whole of their flesh pressed together with a desire so strong he thought he might weep.

"Arthur…" He crooned, tugging at the hem in wanton desperation.

"Leave it."

It wouldn't be the first time they'd failed to remove all their clothing, when they were quick and impatient, when the absence of entwined bodies was paramount to death. Trousers pooled around ankles, shirts pushed up like scarves, too desperate for each other to break contact even for a moment. But this was a slow burn, and Merlin wanted to drink it all in.

"Arthur…" he tried again, tugging more insistently, "please… Arthur…"

A firm grip encircled his wrists, redirecting his hands to golden locks, and Merlin grabbed greedy handfuls of feathery hair as lips attach to his chest and he was quenched for a while. Thighs and hands held him in place as soft lips turned to hard, unforgiving teeth, clamping over taunt nipples and pulling until Merlin was left gasping in pleasure and pain.

He arched off the bed, hips jutting forward against Arthur's in ways that sent adrenaline zinging through his body, lighting him up like a pinball machine. He groaned loudly, just as Arthur liked, and dragged clawed hands from his hair down his back. The feral sensation of scratching one's lover was wholly diminished by the feeling of polyester under his nails, instead of skin.

Merlin slipped his hands deftly under the hem, sweeping a path under and up, pushing the fabric away.

Arthur grunted. "Don't." He said, firmly this time, using one hand to tug it back down.

"Arthur!" Merlin protested, positively writing, "please... take it off! I want to see you…"

His passion turned from wild lust to untethered rage, quicker than lightening can touch the earth. "You wanna see me? _You wanna see me_? Fine!" Sitting up, he grabbed the edge of his shirt, wrenched it off, and threw it forcefully to the ground, the affection in his eyes burned away by red-hot indignation.

And Merlin sees he's not the only one who's been adorned in red and purple.

"Is this what you want!? Are you happy now!?"

"Arthur... What... What...?" His chest was covered in nasty splotches… his ribs, his stomach, his upper arms, all covered in bruises. But the explosion burst of fury then faded, and Arthur's voice was left in broken pieces.

"Why... Why can't you just listen Merlin..."

It's too much. Merlin could barely process what he was seeing.

"Arthur, I don't understand!" he leaned forward, lightly running his fingers over Arthur's discolored breast, "What happened?" he breathed.

Arthur covered Merlin's hand with his own, pulled it instead to his face. It was wet.

"It was my fault." Arthur was crying. It was the most frightening thing Merlin had ever seen. Arthur did not show weakness like this. Not even in private. Because if he didn't acknowledge it, it was easy to pretend it didn't exist.

Merlin stroked his cheek with his thumb.

"It was my fault... I made him mad. I pissed him off. God, I was so _stupid_!"

"Arthur..." his heart was cracking, "Arthur, who...?"

"Uther! God, Merlin, you can't tell anyone!"

"Your... Your dad... He...?"

"Yeah, Merlin, please!" there was desperation in his voice, panic in his eyes. Seeing Arthur like this was not only unnerving, it was downright wrong. "You have to promise me not to tell!"

"But... I don't... What happened?" He wiped a stray tear from Arthur's perfect face, because all he wants to do is help somehow, to fix it. And maybe if he got rid of all the outward signs, he could pretend it didn't exist, too...

"Merlin!" Arthur did not let up. "Promise me you won't say anything!"

"Is this the first-"

"Promise!"

"Okay, alright, alright, I promise, Arthur, not a word."

"You swear it?"

"Yes, Arthur! Yes, I swear it!"

Arthur hesitated.

"On my life! On my mother's life! On- anything! Arthur, please, I won't tell anyone!"

Arthur dove in quickly for a heated kiss, but pulled back just as suddenly, before Merlin could even respond properly.

"I love you so much," He breathed, "tell me you'll always be here... Promise you'll never leave me."

Merlin does not even hesitate.

When he tried to bring the incident up three days later, Arthur walked out of the room.

888

"Terminator marathon this weekend," Arthur said, sliding deftly into the desk across the aisle, "you in?"

"Didn't know you were a fan." Merlin smirked at him, a pencil twirling between his long fingers as they waited for class to start.

"What? A fan of the movies?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I mean sure… but…" he scooted in close and stole a quick glance around before bowing their heads in close to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "What I'm really a fan of is getting your ass in my bed and keeping it there forty-eight hours straight."

Merlin couldn't help but shiver, and he saw Arthur smirk out of the corner of his eye. He was in a good mood today. "Is there… some sort of special occasion?" He asked hesitantly.

Arthur positively glowed. "Oh, nothing much…" he flicked imaginary dust from pants, "just that you're looking at the recipient of a full soccer scholarship to Yale University... I don't know if you've ever heard of it…"

"Arthur!" Merlin squeaked, delighted. Arthur had been dying to go to Yale since he knew what it was. Merlin didn't see any sort of reality in which he was also afforded such an education, but he kept his mouth shut.

The boys had talked only a little- which was to say once- about their post graduation plans. It had gone something like this:

"Arthur… what's going to happen when we graduate?"

"Obviously _Mer_ lin, I'll get into a college and then we'll get you into that same college."

"How the hell are we going to do that?"

"We'll figure it out. We'll be roommates and everything. Now shut up, this is the best part."

How they were going to be sharing dorm rooms in one of the top universities in the country with Merlin's $0.00 college budget was beyond him, but he didn't want to spoil the arrant smile that was invading Arthur's face, so he stuffed the hurt down. He loved him. They'd stay together.

"Congratulations! That's amazing! They'd be crazy not to take you."

Arthur preened at the praise, leaning in again with a smile on his face that seemed to be a personal challenge to the sun. "That's not even the best part… Morgana promised to fuck off for the whole weekend, so we'll have the place to ourselves." His voice dropped several octaves, just like Merlin's self control. "I'm looking forward to hearing you scream." He straightened up, without even a fifth of the blush that was coloring Merlin's cheeks. "I'll see you Friday?" he winked.

Merlin managed to squeak out something along the lines of 'yes.'

888

Merlin had only seen Uther Pendragon once before in his life, from a distance. Much like the four out of five dentist approved toothpaste, it had been close enough.

He had been riding his bike over to Arthur's, for what was promised to be a secluded Saturday night alone, his mind completely filled with all the wonderfully dirty things that he was no doubt going to have done to him.

It was a pleasant way to spend the long ride, given that he no longer had the leisure of a car, even if it did leave him uncomfortably hard upon arrival.

But Uther Pendragon turned out to be the perfect solution to that little problem (feel free to write that one down, fellas).

He was in the driveway, wearing a pressed and pristine business suit, about to step into a, well. Merlin didn't know much about cars, but it was cherry red and looked damn expensive. But he wasn't alone. Arthur stood in front of him, thick arms crossed, face that, even from this distance, Merlin could tell was set in a deep scowl.

Immediately, Merlin slowed his pace. He was positive that Uther was not privy to their little private party, and that it was to stay that way. There was no way he could coast up their driveway while they were standing there, and he really didn't want to have to ride past and then double back. So he stepped back on the brakes ever so slightly.

Riding toward this scene was nothing like riding toward the romantic evening he was headed to a minute ago. This was more like pedaling straight into a brick wall.

Uther was gesturing,one hand tossing his briefcase onto the passenger's seat while the other swept a clean line through the air between him and Arthur. _That's it,_ it said, _Enough. It's finished._ What was 'it'? Merlin didn't know. But Uther seemed pretty pissed about it.

Arthur was on the defense, his stance stiffly and carefully arranged to say 'I don't care,' as he shrugged his broad shoulders, his neck tilted away. Uther reached out, one concilatory hand bridging the gap between them, coming in for a landing on Arthur's right bicep, but it never made contact. Arthur batted it away, his sneering lips forming words Merlin couldn't hear, forming words Uther didn't like. Lightning fast, he grabbed the front collar of Arthur's shirt, dragging him a full step forward so he was right in front of Uther's red face. Arthur nearly lost his balance, and he stumbled forward, his face almost colliding into Uther's stark white shirt, his hands reaching up to clasp Uther's wrists, his eyes wide, vulnerable, and filled with fear. Merlin had never seen that look on his face before. On anyone's face. His blood chilled.

Uther snarled something, right into Arthur's pale face, he snarled, his teeth bared and face twisted. Arthur nodded quickly, frantically, and he was released, falling backwards but catching himself at the last minute, saved from a spill on the blacktop. When he straightened up, Uther was already climbing into the car, the door slamming shut hard, loud, and out of place on this beautiful day like applause for a play before the scene properly ended. Arthur turned, his back to Merlin, his arm wiping across his face as Uther's car let out a throaty purr and began to gracefully glide away.

The whole thing was so fast, Merlin was barely sure he saw it. He might have thought he imagined it all (exercise induced hallucinations, of course. The product of a bored mind on a bike. Yes, exactly, that was it) except for the fact that _Arthur Pendragon,_ macho-man extraordinaire, soccer captain, tall, broad-shouldered, arms thick as tree branches, fit and tough and hard, Arthur Pendragon had been, for all his muscle, small and quivering. A child being yelled at. A puppy being cornered. As delicate as a bird; one with clipped wings. The image was burned onto his eyelids- into his memory. No way it was imagined. No way it was a product of his own mind.

His heart was pounding, his skin sticky by the time he finally rode into Arthur's drive way, so unlike the way he thought it would be. The red car had already turned the corner. The birds were singing, the sun shining, wind blowing. Everything was the same. Sort of. Arthur watched him approach with dark, hooded eyes.

"Hey." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he was afraid. Arthur wouldn't like more.

"Come on, then. I need booze."

They got fantastically drunk. And they never talked about that scene that Merlin was never supposed to witness.

The same man stood in front of him now. Same clean pressed shirt (though now in emerald green), same soft laugh lines, same stiff harsh and untouchable posture. Different expression. What was once full of reckless anger had undergone a perplexing transformation. He was jovial, paternal looking, even. And the grease the caused these particular wheels of change to turn? No doubt the pretty brunette he wore on his arm and the aftershave scent 'day drinking' that followed him like an angry swarm of bees.

A swarm that, by the look on Arthur's face, he might've swallowed.

"Father," He said, his face white, his voice shaking just enough so that you would miss it if you weren't looking for it, "What-? I thought you weren't coming home until Monday...?" It was clear he thought they had been had, but Merlin thought perhaps he needn't have worried. There was no hint of recognition, understanding, or even surprise on Uther's face, just a slight pink flush. And there was no reason for anything else, really. The TV was still on, after all (Kitchen Nightmares- on Merlin's insisting), and, clearly, they had sprung away from each other quickly enough. Uther could not have known that Merlin's tongue was halfway down his son's throat a second before he walked in. They were safe. But even so, his heart was pounding, and, obviously, so was Arthur's.

"Negotiations went much better than expected!" Uther said.

"Oh, I-"

"Who's your friend?" he boomed, loudly, but not unkindly.

"This is Merlin."

"Is he staying over?"

Merlin wanted to say no, he's not, not anymore, anyway. He instinctively knew that that's what Arthur wanted, too. But there was simply no denying the duffle bag by the couch. He and Arthur looked over at it in what felt like perfect unison.

"Yeah." Arthur said stiffly.

"In the guest room, I hope. Wouldn't want people to think you were some sort of faggot!" He laughed. "I would have thought you'd have brought a girl over, Arthur, on a Friday like this. Not…" He waved in Merlin's general direction, "But I guess even the best of us can't catch one every night, hmm?" He laughed again as his hand clearly slid down from the women's waist to her… lower area.

Merlin's stomach twisted painfully. Suddenly he was very eager for this night to end. Things were no longer easy and comfortable, but stiff awkward and frightening. ...Was this how Arthur felt all the time?

"Yeah..." A bit of color was beginning to return to Arthur's face, his voice grew a bit stronger. He relaxed slightly as it became clear Uther was none the wiser. "I see you brought a friend of your own over."

"Yes!" Uther said excitedly, "Well, Arthur, you've met Nimueh before. She's come to help me, ah, celebrate. Marvin, this is my friend Nimueh. We… work together."

Merlin didn't bother correcting him as Nimueh smiled, her face leering at him over pale breasts that popped out of a green bodice. She turned her head toward Uther and a few words slid out between ruby red lips to his ear. Uther straightened up.

"Yes, of course, my darling. Boys, Nimueh and I will be upstairs. I trust you not to get into too much mischief… but of course, boys will be boys." He winked. Merlin tried to smile as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He was 100% positive the 'mischief' they had been planning on getting up to was not what Uther had in mind. He felt it best not to share this with the group.

Uther and his friend walked past them on their way upstairs while Arthur sat very still and looked straight ahead. Nimueh's dress rode up dangerously high on her thighs, but neither boy bothered to look. In fact, Merlin was feeling vaguely sick.

On the television, Chef Ramsey was cursing wildly at a restaurant owner for having cockroaches in the kitchen, but the room had never seemed so silent. The plush pillows had never seemed so uncomfortable. Merlin didn't know what to say. So he said nothing.

"It's just good we caught him when we did." Arthur said, so quietly it was like he was speaking only to himself, "You know, buzzed but not angry yet?"

888

Merlin hadn't bothered to bring a sleeping bag or blankets, for obvious reasons, but Arthur managed to rustle up some sheets and an extra pillows for the guest room. Merlin had seen it only once before, during the party at the beginning of the year, the one that started it all. Looking at it now, it was charming. Small but neatly decorated- no creepy artwork. The walls were powder blue, the carpet lush and the bed squishy… it was all wrong. It was like he was banished, or unwanted or homeless. Only, he wasn't of course, everything was fine. He just had to stop complaining. Things could be worse. Look at him, complaining about a bed to sleep in and a roof over his head.

"Sorry about this." Arthur murmured, barely audibly. Ever since his dad came home he'd been stiff (not in the way Merlin wanted him to be), quiet, and afraid. He didn't talk much, couldn't make eye contact, couldn't even brush against Merlin without his lips pursing, his eyes darting toward the nearest door like he expected a news crew rushing over ("This just in: Arthur Pendragon, high-schooler, is gay! Gay, gay, gay! More, at eleven").

"It's alright, Arthur." Merlin smiled. But it wasn't, really. Being here, knowing Mr. Pendragon (plus one) was just down the hall (and hadn't emerged from the room since he'd arrived, though there had been some squeals. Presumably of delight) made him feel like his very blood had turned to wriggling worms in his veins. He was looking forward to leaving the next day. Home would be a relief. He just wished he could take Arthur with him.

Arthur looked pained. He leaned forward fingers clenching Merlin's face tightly and pressing a searing kiss to his lips so fast Merlin barely had time to process it, let alone savor it, before Arthur was gone.

Merlin flopped down on the bed, biting his lip hard, until it hurt. It was eleven o'clock. Just a few more hours until he could leave politely.

888

Merlin's mother was crying. Harsh sobs that seem to echo around his living room.

"I just don't understand why, Merlin," She said, her voice muffled by her hands. Merlin wanted so badly to comfort her, but he couldn't reach the couch she was sitting on because his feet were stuck fast to the carpet at the other end of the room. He tried to reach toward, flatten himself over the carpet and army crawl forward, only the carpet was quicksand, and he was quickly getting sucked in.

So that's what he was doing. His body beginning to fall into the world beneath the floor, struggling to keep his head up and breathing fresh air while his mother sobbed uncontrollably.

"There, there. It's alright, Mom! It's okay!" he was calling to her. But he didn't understand what was wrong in the first place.

"Why, Merlin, why?" She was going on and on, "Why did you do it? I don't understand!"

And Merlin was trying to tell her that he didn't know what he was supposed to have done, trying to ask what the hell was going on, only it was difficult to get the words out correctly.

"Mom," he managed, "What-?" When she finally turned her face to look at him. Their eyes met for only a moment. Before she projectile-vomited all over him.

He was covered in thick, slimy, sick, trying to wipe it off with his hands, get it out of his eyes. Then he realized it wasn't his mother being sick, it was _him_ who was throwing up. Not in his living room, but in Arthur's guestroom, down the front of his shirt, dripping off his chin in putrid chunks, and landing all over the pristine white sheets. That was going to stain. This was so embarrassing, how was he going to tell Arthur that he was just sick all over, he might as well have pissed the bed, he'd just have to just clean it up himself. Could he use the washer without anyone noticing?

He woke up, blinking hard, watching the ceiling come into focus. Two things quickly became apparent to him. First: It was dark- sometime in the middle of the night. Second: He wasn't throwing up. But someone else was.

He could hear it, the tell tale " _HhhUUuuulllcchhh"_ and spatter as it hit the porcelain toilet in the bathroom across the hall, muffled slightly by Merlin's closed door. Was Arthur sick? He tossed back the covers and was greeted by a wave of cool air.

The knob turned quietly, and Merlin peeked his head into the hallway. A light squeezed out from the ajar bathroom door, illuminating his black surroundings to dull gray-orange. He padded across the carpet, his bare feet sinking so far into the soft carpet that for a moment he remembered his dream. Gently, he wormed his way into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him, only to find that it wasn't Arthur who was sick after all. It was Uther's "friend," (what had her name been? Nimueh?) that was hugging the toilet with surprisingly slim arms. She had on a pale pink nightgown that barely covered her. Merlin could see the swell of her breasts in the plunging neckline, the dark circles of her nipples through the gossamer fabric. It draped downward in ruches that, while beautiful, did such a poor job of concealing her curving figure that the thin black strap of her thong stuck out quite plainly.

She looked up at the sound of the door closing, and Merlin got a good look at red, puffy eyes with heavy lids, squinting through flyaway hair at him.

"Oh. It's you. If you gotta piss you'll have to go downstairs." Her voice is hoarse and scratchy, like she'd been sick with thumbtacks. She turned and spat brown into the bowl.

"Oh, no, I'm…" But he really had no idea what he was, and no reason for being there, so his shaky words trailed off into an even shakier silence, during which Merlin stared at his bare feet until he heard the sound of more retching.

Nimueh was bent once more over the toilet, frizzy hair curtaining her face from view. Merlin crept hesitantly toward her, pausing before he reached out to touch her. She flinched when his hands first grazed over her hair, but made no protest, (or perhaps she just wasn't able to while her mouth was preoccupied) so Merlin continued gathering up her hair.

From here the bruises were far more obvious. A light smattering of pale lavender trails under her eye, down her sharp jaw and sloping neck, and seems to join into a heavier stream. Both dark, royal purple and pale, faded yellow the flow gets heavier as Merlin's eyes scan, as if the bruises themselves are migrating down to her feet and off her body, eager to find a happier place.

It was a surreal moment. The kind that made Merlin wonder how exactly had wound up here, holding back a strange, battered, adult's hair as she heaved in his secret boyfriend's bathroom.

"Paper towel," she moaned weakly, reaching her hand back for one. Merlin handed her a wad of toilet paper instead, but she didn't comment on the difference as she wiped her mouth clean and reached up to flush, resting her sweaty forehead on the seat.

"You and Arthur?" she asked. And without turning toward him, without so much as looking at him, she cut him to the core, struck a bolt of fear into his body so cold and so pointed he felt his stomach drop. But for some reason, one he didn't understand and certainly couldn't explain, he did not deny it.

The fact remained that she could see his secret like it was written on his body just as clearly as it was on hers. She was far closer to being nude, but both saw each other bear. This woman he had barely met spotted what close family and friends could not. He did not want to admit it; he did not want to give her the same power over him that he had over her just by viewing her body.

So he remained silent, feeling thick-lipped and clumsy and rather stupid.

"He's just like his father." Nimueh said in a tone that was half dismissive, half sympathetic.

"He's not." Merlin said quickly. This was as good a confession as any, he knew, but he couldn't let her say such things, Such obvious lies, when she knew nothing- nothing- about Their situation. She could keep her nose where it belonged- out of his business.

She laughed, and Merlin felt his anger swell up like a thermometer on a hot day. "Maybe not yet," She crowed, "but fear does strange things to people."

But what does she know? he asked himself later, as he tossed and turned. He answered his own question. Nothing, that's only thinks that because her life is so shit. The poor woman. She'd see that same despair anywhere she went, because the problem was inside of her.

"You know," Merlin muttered to himself as he yawned, "I just feel bad for her."

888

"I just don't like the way he treats you sometimes."

"I know, Gwen, but none of that is for real. He's just acting so people don't catch on. He's not like that in private."

"But it is real, in a way. I mean he really treats you that way. He doesn't do that to his other friends, so why does he have to do it with you?"

"Gwen, you don't get it."

"I know! That's why I'm trying to understand, Merlin, please."

"He's just really scared of someone finding out."

"I dont think anyone would if just treated you like his regular friends!"

"Gwen, I appreciate that you're just trying to be a good friend. But you don't know how hard it is to be openly gay in high school. It's not- it's not like that stupid musical! We are _not_ all in this

together. You know what happened at my last school when people found of about me?"

"No... No, you're right, I'm sorry..."

"They beat the shit out of me. I was in the hospital for two days. Why do you think I'm here? You said yourself no one transfers senior year without a good reason."

"I- I-"

"So believe it or not, I actually have no problem with how Arthur treats me in public, alright? I'm not eager for people to find out, either. I know you're just worried but you can _stop_ because I _love_ being with Arthur-"

"..."

"..."

"The bell has rung, Mr. Emrys. . I believe you both have a classes to get to."

888

Merlin was all nerves, twitchier than a crack addict in need of a fix, with half circles of sweat developing under his arms. He found Gwen at her locker almost simultaneously with the dismissal bell. His hand closed around her upper arm.

"Gwen," He said, voice tight, face pale, "How much… how much do you think Mr. Aredian heard of our conversation? Earlier? Do you think he heard…?"

It had been on his mind all day, weighing him down, hogging his attention. Had he just let slip his own deepest secret? To school faculty? It would be disgustingly ironic. And if one person knew, then everyone knew. It was just a matter of time. And if Arthur found out, he would be so angry, angry at Merlin for letting it slip. He should have been more careful. He should have known better than to talk about their relationship in broad daylight where anyone could have heard.

"Merlin, it's alright," Gwen said, leaning in to whisper into his uneasy expression, "I'm sure he wasn't eavesdropping on some silly students. And, anyway, even if he was," Merlin gulped, "Who would he tell? He's not going to go around telling people you're dating… I mean, he's a teacher, for goodness sakes. He has to, you know, be discreet. Professional. I don't think you have to worry."

"I should have been more careful, Gwen. One teacher knows, then all the teachers know, then all the students know, and next thing you know people are following you home and- and drawing stupid cartoons about you and complaining to the gym teacher that they can't change in the same room as a faggot…"

"None of that is going to happen." Gwen said firmly, "Not here. He didn't hear anything. I promise. Look, you said so yourself, no one knows anything, right? As far as anyone knows, you're just friends, right?" She asked, giving him a significant look.

"Yeah, I mean- yeah."

"Right, He's not going to assume anything based on a tiny piece of a conversation that he definitely didn't even hear." She gave him a smile, which he returned, albeit weakly, and she wrapped her arms around his thin middle.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened last year. I didn't know."

"I know you didn't."

"Merlin." There was a tap on his shoulder. "Read to go yet? Have you even _been_ to your locker yet?"

"Uh, hi, Arthur," Gwen said, standing up awkwardly.

"Gwen." He acknowledged, politely. Somewhat politely. "Merlin, can you get a move on if you want a ride home? Unlike you, I do have things to do."

"Yeah, I'm sure the X-files aren't going anywhere."

"Merlin!" His eyes were touched by the subtlest of smiles… something only Merlin could catch. It made him grin.

"I'm coming," He rolled his eyes. Knowing he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with Arthur was already lifting his spirits.

888

a part of him, a large part, if he's being honest, did not want to go. Because the hand on his upper arm was angry, and the face that was leading him outside was dark, nebulous, full of questionable content.

Behind the gymnasium there were no windows, and beside the bleachers there would be no witnesses. Everyone likes to leave early on Fridays.

"What happened?" Arthur parked him up against the bricks, keeping him walled in with his muscle. "What didn't you tell me?"

"I- I don't know, Arthur! What are you-"

"Mr. Aredian knows, Merlin!" Arthur exploded. His fist hit the wall next to Merlin's ear; his eyes wide and threatening, a vein pulsing in his neck. And even so, he was shaking. Even so he was white with fear. "He fucking knows! He knows about fucking us!" Again, his fist hit the wall, but he made no indication that he felt any pain.

Merlin reminded himself that he was safe here. He was safe with Arthur.

"How do you-"

"Just now! He said-! And he knew! Someone must have told- someone knows! _Who did you tell?_ "

"Arthur! Calm down! You're not making any sense. What happened?" But even as he tried to take this logical path, Merlin's heart sunk.

So he had heard. Aredian had heard it all. Gwen had been wrong. It was not going to be okay, after all. A shiver ran down his spine as Arthur began pacing back in forth in front of him, already spouting off again, one hand gripping a handful of his own hair.

"In the hall, Merlin!" For all his desperation to keep this a secret, he was near shouting, with unbridled, cornered panic leaking from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears, unable to be contained in his body.

"He said- he fucking said congrats, he'd heard about fucking Yale! And I said thanks very much- and he said he was a fucking. Shame. They didn't know what kind of faggoty fucking student they were really getting! Faggoty fucking888!" His frantic footsteps stop as he made a strangled noise deep his throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair and bending double over his stomach like he was about to be sick or collapse or... or…

Arthur stood up, and with a wordless yell, a cry that sucked the last of the air from Merlin's lungs, he punched the wall. One. Two. Three times. When he pulled away, his knuckles are dipped in red. If he noticed, he pretended not to. Merlin's felt a bead of sweat run from under his arm down his ribs.

"Now I _know_ he didn't _fucking_ see anything. And I sure as _fucking hell_ know I didn't tell anybody!" He rounded on Merlin, rounded on him as he was frozen up against this brick wall, and he could feel Arthur's tenuous thread of control, of sanity, break with an almost audible _ping!_

" _So who did you tell?!_ "

and... He was afraid. Merlin was actually afraid. Because the person bearing down on him here was not the self- conscience, passionate, leader he fell in love with. This was a man whose life had come undone, one dangerously close to losing it all and gone half mad with the need to re-wrap what had unraveled. There was no telling what a man might do when he thinks he's lost it all. But even so, Merlin found it quite impossible to lie. It would have been far too obvious. Besides, Arthur had already made up his mind.

"Wwellll..." Merlin said, desperate to keep his voice from shaking, "I didn't, I didn't tell anyone, now, Arthur," He said slowly, holding out his hands like he could ward off Arthur's dense, heat-like anger, "But… Gwen did sort of… figure it out…." It was close enough to the truth.

He was only admitting to what Arthur already held as self-evident truth. He's only revealing so much as Arthur already knows. But it didn't stop his eyes from going wide in disbelief.

"Gwen knows? She knows! All this fucking time, I _knew_ there was something fucking wrong there. How could you be so fucking _careless_ , Merlin? This is all your fucking _fault!"_

He saw it coming, like time slowed down just so that he could see his life crumbling away in HD. The elbow cocking back, the curled fist hurdling at him so fast it was a blur. His eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted, hands up to shelter his face, his whole body hunched back into the bricks like he could morph right through them. But the blow never came.

After five long, silent, pregnant seconds, he peeked through his lashes.

Arthur was staring down at his own hand, now unfurled, in utter horror, looking like it had acted of its own accord. He watched a ruby-red bead of blood jump from his knuckles to the ground. Not Merlin's blood.

"Ohmygod." If Merlin hadn't seen his lips form the barely-audible whisper he would not have believed that words could come out of those two, pale lips, stunned numb with shock.

His left hand moved to grip his right wrist, like his hand might fly off and attack someone else if he didn't keep it contained. He staggered backwards, allowing Merlin enough room to stand up, come off the wall.

"All this time… I thought I was different… but I'm just the same." He wasn't talking to Merlin. Merlin wasn't even sure he was aware he was talking. His beautiful golden skin shone with a coating of sweat though the afternoon was far from hot.

"oh my god."

He said it again. And again. Like his braid had broken, like he couldn't process anything else.

"Oh... Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Oh god! Oh god, no!"

Hysteria bloomed over his face like the dawn, consuming him fully, taking him from the rational world into a place where Merlin could not follow.

"...Arthur?" His own voice was barely more than the creak of an old door, soft, hesitant, and unsure.

Arthur looked up in a frenzied confusion, taking a few more trembling steps backward. He looked like he didn't know where he was. "Merlin! Merlin, I didn't know, I swear I didn't!" He was like Merlin had never seen him. High-pitched, cowering, and full of undiluted terror. His eyes were the black ocean during a storm, dark crashing waves, pure power with no outlet.

"Arthur, it's okay… Just-"

"It's _not okay_!" He wailed like a child, already retreating, still holding his right wrist so tightly it was shaking and looking at Merlin like… Arthur was looking at Merlin like he'd just killed a man. Like he had just killed Merlin.

When he was ten feet away, he turned and ran.

Merlin did not follow, but sank down to his knees in the dirt and cried.

888

The car that rolled into his driveway was unfamiliar, but the blonde at the wheel was not. Merlin was off his bed like it was a springboard. He'd never been much of an athlete, but nothing stops a force of nature. Not even a smarting ankle. He doesn't shut the door behind him, doesn't stop to put on shoes before he's barrelling outside, the warm sun in the sky a mere lightbulb compared to the one stepping out of his car.

"Arthur!" He wasted no time, flinging his arms around his neck and burying his face into his neck. "You didn't answer my calls or my texts, I..."

Overwhelming excitement trailed off into uncertain silence. Arthur, although he did not rebuke Merlin's probing, affection hands, he did not encourage them. Or, acknowledge them, for that matter. His body, always a work of art, was more statuesque than ever because he stood as still as stone.

His arms were held out to the sides so not as to touch Merlin, his neck turned away in such a manner that Merlin Could see his veins sticking out. He pulled back. The underside of Arthur's jaw down, disappearing under his shirt collar, was one massive purple splotch.

Merlin bit his lip. "Uther-?"

"Don't." Arthur said, sharply. Then, seeming to realize his brusqueness, gave a shaky laugh. "It's alright. I'm, just a bit sore."

"What's going on?"

"I was going to write you a note, but I had to... I had to do this in person."

So this was how it ended? Merlin's stomach dropped.

"So I guess when I said I wouldn't leave you, that same promise didn't extend to you, huh?"

Arthur's swallowed hard. "It was unfair of me to force you to make that promise."

"Oh, great, A loophole. Looks like you're off the hook, then."

Arthur's jaw clenched. "I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Course not," Merlin replied, sounding only slightly hysterical, "you've come to break it off with me. Had enough of cock and jumbo ears, have you? Putting a lock on your closet door?" He was being unfair, he knew, but he couldn't help it. His insides were smarting, his pride was burned.

"I'm going away."

"What are you...?" Merlin's angry question trailed away once he caught sight of Arthur's backseat. It was filled with two bulging duffel bags, and one large cardboard box, the top neatly folded down into place.

"After what happened-" he cut himself off, shook his head, started again. "After I almost punched you in the face, I rushed home. I started packing. I knew I couldn't stay here- there- under that roof anymore. I was... Not myself. Screaming at Uther, telling him I couldn't take it anymore, screaming I was gay, screaming that I wasn't going to end up a hateful, greedy, lonely bastard like him and that I was leaving."

"Arthur, that was two days ago."

Arthur gave a rueful smile, and Merlin was startled to see he was missing a tooth. "Yeah. Well, he didn't take it so well. We fought... He, uh, he's actually been holding back all these years. Who knew?"

"Oh Arthur..."

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "He forbade me to leave the house. I couldn't if I'd wanted to, that first day. I was pretty hurt. But, after that he watched me. Promised he'd beat it out of me. Said he'd been too soft. Said he was going to pull me out of school. That's where he is now, actually. Doing some sort of paperwork with the principle. Might be done by now, though, I suppose."

"he just left you alone? After all that?"

"Well, he took my car keys with him. And my bike keys. And my cell phone, all the credit cards, laptops... Ripped out the landline, too. Sent Morgana somewhere... Kicking and screaming, I might add. To a friends, I think. I doubt she'll hang around much longer after I..."

Merlin had forgotten all about Morgana. He felt a twinge of guilt. He'd been so preoccupied with Arthur. "Does he... Morgana...?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not a finger. He doesn't blame her, does he?"

"For what?"

"My mother's death."

There's a pause of silence. "So how did you get here?"

"Jogged to the nearest dealership. Good thing I turned 18 last month, huh? And that I had the credit card number memorized."

Merlin's eyes nearly pop from his head. "You bought a car?"

"Nah. Uther did though." Arthur gave a small smirk. "He's gonna shit a brick when he sees that bill... Mind you, he'll shit one anyway, when finds out I've done a runner." He shrugged. "I've been lying low since then, waiting till I was sure you'd be home from school."

And then it started to be real- the idea that Arthur was really going to be gone. Merlin was really going to be alone. When did his life turn into a soap opera?

"Arthur, what are you gonna do? Where are you gonna go?"

"My Uncle Gaius' place. Well, he's not really my uncle, technically, but he's is a very old family friend."

"So you'll just show up on his doorstep, will you?"

Arthur frowned. "No. Well. Yes, but he knows about... Well, I think knows. I suspect he suspects. He's always said if I ever needed a place away from home, if I ever found myself in trouble that his door was open. Only problem was that he's halfway across the country."

"People always say that, Arthur. They don't mean come live with me!"

"I already talked to him about it."

"You said uther room your phone." If he could point out enough flaws, enough logical inconsistencies then maybe it wouldn't be true.

"There are plenty of other phones and laptops in the world."

"It's not like you to run away."

Arthur clenched his jaw. "I'm not running away. I'm getting help. Gaius said he'd- he said we could get someone to help me. A psychiatrist. So that I- so that I don't end up like... Him."

"I don't want you to go." It was his last excuse.

Arthur acted like he hadn't heard. "The second thing," he said, "is that I haven't had my head on straight for a long time, and I can see that now. There's no excuse for the way I treated you. I'm sorry. You deserve so much better, Merlin."

"So.. what? That's it? We're over?"

Arthur's shoe scuffed at the ground as he shrugged. "I don't think I'm in a position where I can be anything more than your friend, Merlin."

"More like pen-pal."

"If that's what you want."

"It fucking isn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, that makes it all better."

"I should go. I have a long drive."

Merlin said nothing as Arthur lowered himself into the car halfway, looking pained, before standing up again.

"Just- maybe- and you don't have to answer now, Merlin, but, in the future- if, if I were to... if I were somehow able to deserve you...?"

Merlin leaned in, and pressed their lips together.

"Yes."

He watched Arthur pull out of the driveway a short while later, a look of determination set on his face. It sent sparks down Merlin's spine and into his toes.

And he just knew that they weren't over.


End file.
